


Devil

by Minrubi



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark, F/M, Human Caroline, Hybrid Klaus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-23 15:42:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 45,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2552876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minrubi/pseuds/Minrubi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every supernatural creature had heard of the frightening rumors about him, of his cruelty and complete lack of remorse. Of the fact that he exclusively drank from vampires, despite the taboo surrounding the act. Some even thought his existence was a myth, so great was his power that it seemed unrealistic. Human Caroline and Hybrid Klaus. *Dark Klaroline, and AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own The Vampire Diaries.
> 
> Warning: This is intended for a mature and broad-minded audience due to my writing style, which tends to have a dark undertone.
> 
> A/N: Hello, everyone! Okay, lately, I've been having, like, non-stop, compulsive thoughts about writing a Klaroline story, so I finally decided to write a story to save myself from my own self-inflicted insanity, and here is the first chapter of it. I really hope you enjoy it!

The young girl ran, screaming for help. Blood was trickling down her body, leaving a trail which was being followed. The howling kept getting closer, closer, and closer. Her legs began tingling with fatigue, her fear-induced adrenaline was quickly dissipating. Exhausted lungs burned in protest as she sped through the woods, now at a lower, pained pace, her feet barely skimming the surface as she attempted to flee. The heavy fog combined with the hot tears sprouting from her eyes reduced her visual acuity, but she was determined to escape from the monster that was hunting her. Blinking to refocus her vision, she could now make out the shape of the full moon, and a blur of bright, yet distant lights. Her heart threatened to beat out of her chest as she finally realized she was getting close to a busy road. All she had to do was get to the road to get some help. She screamed again with renewed effort, wildly waving her arms above her head, praying someone would notice her.

Out of nowhere, something hit her right leg and knocked it out from under her. She went down hard, crashing into the ground, her arms poised in front of her to take the brunt of the impact, but the momentum was too much. She whimpered as she felt pain shooting up her leg. She tried getting up, but it was no use, her broken limb could not support her weight as it bent at an awkward angle. Collapsing to the ground, she began dragging her body on her elbows, ignoring the pain vibrating through her.

Behind her, she heard the growl of the enraged beast, a piercing sound alerting her of its nearness.

The girl continued to drag herself, despite the futility of it all.

Caroline, a silent spectator to the horrific scene unfolding before her, wanted to close her eyes, knowing that if she kept watching a scream would inevitably escape her mouth from the suspense of it all, but she was mesmerized. She tugged on her lower lip with her small, blunt teeth. She wanted the girl to live, to survive.

_Get up._  She whispered in her head, anxious that the girl was going to get killed by the monstrosity that was hunting her down.

Caroline bit her lip even harder as the werewolf finally pounced on the wounded girl, tearing into her neck with its razor sharp canines. She watched in dismay as the girl gurgled in her own blood, her arm outstretched, still trying to reach the road.

To her horror, the werewolf then began breaking off the dead girl's limbs and began gnawing on them.

Caroline's shoulders slumped, then her emerald eyes narrowed.  _Wow. They would kill off my favorite character, the only character that was actually interesting and-_

Before Caroline could continue with her inner diatribe, a hand fell upon one of her shoulders from out of the darkness of the living room.

Caroline's eyes widened, and the scream that she was trying so desperately to suppress earlier finally ripped out of her throat. She jumped out of the couch, spilling tea everywhere. Scrambling, she grabbed the nearest weapon, which pathetically turned out to be the remote.

She tensed her body, prepared to lash out to the intruder or monster lurking in the dark.

The light that suddenly engulfed the living room, quickly revealed the owner of the hand that had touched her shoulder.

It wasn't an intruder and certainly not a monster.

A sigh of relief escaped the blonde's lips, then heat rushed to her face as she realized she was holding the remote in front of her grandmother as it were some kind of deadly weapon. She felt and most likely looked ridiculous, judging from the way her grandmother was gawking at her.

"Are you alright?" questioned the familiar, gentle voice.

"You nearly gave me a heart attack", murmured Caroline, pressing a hand to her frantic heartbeat for emphasis, but nodding in reassurance.

She had been watching way too many scary movies today, all because of a silly bet she had made at work with one of her coworkers. He had, confidently, assumed that she lacked the courage to watch a Halloween marathon of horror flicks and had even called her a 'scaredy cat,' but she'd show him. When she saw him during work tomorrow, she was going to rub it in his stupid, yet very handsome face. She would just conveniently leave out the part about him being right in labeling her a scaredy cat.

Caroline rubbed her arms, trying to get rid of the goose bumps still lingering on her skin, cautiously walking toward her grandmother, trying not to alarm her.

Her grandmother smiled apologetically, then slightly frowned as she glanced at the television and took notice of what Caroline was watching.

"That's going to give you nightmares, Care," scolded her grandmother, disapproval evident in her brown eyes.

Caroline froze in place, then flashed a smile, her chest swelling with joy. Her grandmother recognized her!

"Gran, I'm an adult, almost 23 years old. Scary movies won't give me nightmares," she argued, hoping that her grandmother remembered her real age this time, instead of mistaking her for being a child like the last time.

Her grandmother gave her a disbelieving look, and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Really? Those would've fooled me," teased the elder woman, referencing her granddaughter's pajamas.

Caroline took a peek down at her attire and laughed wholeheartedly. She had forgotten she was wearing her now tea-stained children's pajamas, too blinded by the happiness that her grandmother's moment of lucidity brought her.

"They're comfy," defended Caroline in a haughty voice, but she was still smiling.

It was true, she loved wearing children's pajamas, sometimes she even wore footwear designed for children, too. Most days she disliked being petite, but then she would remember that it was her small-frame that allowed her to wear the world's comfiest clothing.

"Well, I didn't mean to frighten you, sweetie, but your phone has been going off and I don't know how to make it stop," confessed her grandmother, leaning heavily on her cane as she gave Caroline her phone with a trembling hand.

Guilt tore at Caroline. The only reason she had refrained from yelling at the characters that kept inevitably dying in the movies she'd been watching on her day off was to allow her sick grandmother to get some rest, yet due to her own obliviousness her grandmother had to get out of bed to locate her.

She had made sure to be as quiet possible, keeping the volume very low on the television, knowing that after her grandmother had her weekly treatment she usually suffered a multitude of side effects. Including severe headaches that were worsened by noise, yet she had forgotten that she left her phone on full volume in her grandmother's room when she had gone in to give her, her lunch earlier. She mentally berated herself.

_Stupid, stupid._

"Gran, I'm sorry, I forgot I left my phone in your room," said Caroline, her voice soft.

"It's okay, don't worry about it," replied the brown-eyed woman, waving off the apology with a forgiving smile.

"Let's get you back to bed, you need to rest," announced Caroline.

Her grandmother nodded, and accepted Caroline's steadying hand around her frail shoulders as she guided her back to the room.

Once she had her grandmother settled in bed, Caroline glanced at her phone. She had 9 missed calls, and 4 voicemails from work.

_Weird._

Whenever she got a call from work, it was for her to go in earlier than scheduled, but she had never been called on one of her days off, let alone that many times within the span of 20 minutes. She chewed on her lip debating if she should call, wondering if something was wrong, then her phone decided for her as it rang.

"Hello?" she answered, picking up on the first ring.

She walked out into the hallway, not wanting to disturb her grandmother.

"Caroline! I've been trying to get a hold of you for at least an hour," growled her manager, his voice a bit muffled by the music playing in the background.

"It's my day off," curtly replied Caroline, looking at her grandmother from the doorway. She couldn't leave her grandmother unattended for too long while she was awake, she sometimes forgot where she was and panicked. The neighbor she normally paid to look after her while she went to work had a date today, but Caroline didn't mind looking after her beloved grandmother on her rest day, even while being exhausted.

"Not anymore," countered her manager in a biting tone.

"What?" she asked, confused.

"It means you need to come in today," he informed her irritably, his voice low and ominous.

"I can't go in tonight," nervously replied Caroline, starting to get a foreboding feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had never heard him use that tone of voice with her, or with anyone else for that matter.

There was an exasperated sigh, and she could practically feel him scowling.

"Caroline, if you're not here in the next hour, you're fired," he snapped.

Her mouth went dry. He had never outright threatened to fire her before, he usually preferred more "subtle" threats.

"What do you-" she started, but was cut off abruptly.

There was a click and the call ended.

She cursed under her breath and proceeded to walk to her room to start getting ready. She'd have to find someone to watch over her grandmother, she couldn't leave her alone.

"It's quite cold in here, you should open a window," called out her grandmother from behind her.

Caroline whirled around to go look at her grandmother sitting up in bed, a dazed look in her eyes.

"If I open the window, it'll get colder," explained Caroline, knowing it was useless to argue with her grandmother when she got like this.

"Colder? Why would it get colder? It's the middle of the day," said her grandmother, confusion flickering in her eyes.

Caroline sighed and gently explained to her that it was autumn and that it was chilly outside because it was nighttime.

"Nonsense, Liz! It's the middle of summer, don't you see? Take a look," insisted the woman, pointing and staring at the window, completely oblivious to the full moon and the branches swaying in the cold wind.

The blonde felt her heart constrict, lately her grandmother's moments of lucidity were becoming more and more rare. She didn't know what image her grandmother wanted her to be able to see, but she decided to play along.

"I see, it is summer, mom," lied Caroline, her voice almost breaking.

**. . .**

Niklaus Mikaelson, quite possibly one of the most powerful creatures to date, did not like to be ignored. He was not used to it, especially by his own mother. How dare she summon him, ruin his plans for the evening, only to pretend as if he didn't exist?

He heaved a sigh of annoyance as he offhandedly scanned the faces of his siblings, and the rest of the vampires sitting next and across to him in the imposingly large mahogany table. He didn't know any of their identities, and truly didn't care to learn them, but deduced that introductions would soon be made if they were what his mother considered "important" enough to interact with his family. In his opinion, vampires outside of his family were not important. He even referred to them as "lesser vampires" because compared to his family, they couldn't be anything else but less. The only vampires who were exempt from the demeaning nickname, and the only ones he held some degree of respect for, were the enforcers, or perhaps it was simply some sort of twisted comradery as opposed to genuine respect. He was one of them, after all. The original enforcer.

Vampires, despite how young or old they may be, had to adhere to a certain set of ancient rules that his family, specifically his mother, had created to ensure the continuation of the species, or else suffer the consequences. Most vampires obeyed the rules, but lapses did occasionally occur. That's where the enforcers came in.

Those that took on the role of enforcers dedicated their lives into preserving the vampire race, they efficiently disposed of anything or anyone that threatened the species, mainly destroying rogue vampires, whilst managing to maintain a peaceful co-existence between vampires, werewolves, witches, and humans alike. They took many measures to ensure that humans merely viewed their existence as myths, absurdities, legends, creations of their drunken imagination.

Looking down at his hands, he almost chuckled at the irony of it all. Out of all his siblings, he had been the one that ended up with the emblematic garnet ring encircling his left middle finger. Who would have thought?

It was centuries ago, when vampires openly preyed on humans as if they were cattle that his mother advised him, and his siblings to dispose of the rebellious vampires that refused to feed inconspicuously and follow her rules, warning them of the inevitability of the human's retaliation. She constantly scolded them for their lack of action toward remedying the "dire" situation. They had all ignored their mother, with the exception of Finn, finding it amusing that she wanted them to enforce rules that they themselves constantly broke. Not to mention that the idea of being burdened by such a tedious responsibility didn't particularly appeal to any of them. So what if mortals knew of them? How were they, the first immortals, supposed to cower at the threat of uneducated, incompetent human mobs wielding pitchforks and holy items?

Humans were weak, while vampires were strong, his family even stronger, and he was the strongest. At first, his mother's concern over the humans posing a threat had seemed preposterous to him, laughable even.

Eventually his eldest brother, Finn, the cloying humanitarian of the Mikaelson family, had taken it upon himself to "teach" the rogue vampires how to feed without killing. In time even Elijah and Rebekah joined the cause and attempted to half-heartedly reform them. He and his younger brother Kol, however, were too busy enjoying traveling the world, womanizing, living freely, and never giving a second thought to their mother's plea.

During their travels was when they first heard the rumors of witches being burnt, of their persecution. News didn't travel very quickly back then, so to say that they were surprised once they learnt of the full extent of witch deaths was an understatement. The death toll was staggering. Witches were once plentiful, yet evidently only a few remained, strewn, living persecuted lives.

He had laughed at the news, given how much he disliked witches. They had fallen victims to humans. How pathetic. Kol, on the other hand, had not been as amused. His younger brother, for some reason unknown to him, seemed to like witches, despite the contempt they felt toward vampires and himself.

Then a few years later, the werewolf massacres started. This time his brother had laughed and celebrated with him. Werewolves were their enemies, even more so than witches. He, in particular, had a special hatred solely reserved for their breed.

As far as he was concerned it seemed as if the pesky humans were doing them a favor.

It was too late when he finally realized they should have listened to their mother. He, along with many others, never thought that the superior vampire race would be the next target, arrogantly thinking their kind too strong to fall prey to humans, nor that their natural enemies would eventually become their strongest allies. Mortals may have been weak, but they vastly outnumbered any supernatural race, and over time their methods of eradicating supernatural beings became increasingly efficient.

Klaus clenched his hands in fury, his pale eyes glittering dangerously as he reminisced. He now hated humans almost as much as he hated werewolves.

Resolutely, he switched his attention from his dark thoughts of the past back to his mother. She continued to ignore everyone at the table, too caught up in a conversation with two vampires.

Niklaus felt a renewed surge of annoyance, disliking how easily she disregarded his presence.

Letting out a long, calming breath, he focused on his mother's melodic voice with his heightened hearing. A slight smile formed on his naturally rose-colored lips, knowing she would undoubtedly have reprimanded him if she knew he was eavesdropping, but she was thankfully too occupied to notice.

He could hear her soft words, yet their sequencing made absolutely no sense. His smile faded. What was she discussing with the vampires? Glancing over at the duo in question, taking note of their garnet rings, confusion registered in his mind as he realized they were enforcers.

What were they doing here, unannounced, in his city?

Each enforcer was assigned a city to watch over, and depending on the populace, some larger cities required more than one enforcer. Bigger cities had more human prey, making them the most sought after hunting grounds for vampires. The more people, the higher the risk for exposure, especially with the popularity of advanced technology and media outlets. When an enforcer entered another's domain, they were expected to make their presence known, although that rarely happened in these modern times. It was too risky for an enforcer to leave their city unguarded. There was never a shortage of renegade, careless, or ignorant baby vampires to be dealt with.

He was the only enforcer that had the luxury of leaving his city whenever he pleased. Nobody dared to break the rules here. Only very rarely, in the past did he have to deal with uncooperative lesser vampires, but he had made proper examples out of them. Truth be told, he sometimes envied the other enforcers. Killing was fun, one of his favorite forms of entertainment, and they had a lot of killing to do, unlike him, which is why he sometimes went to random cities with his younger brother to help dispose of the "threats".

Niklaus often found himself craving for a resurgence of the olden days, days full of bloodshed, destruction, battles, and limitless death. A time when he could kill indiscriminately without having to concern himself with destroying the evidence of his fun. It was a pity humans had ruined that way of life.

Thinking about his glory days was doing nothing to lessen the hunger that had been clawing at him throughout the day. A need to kill and feed slowly began overwhelming him as his notoriously short patience dwindled even further.

His mother hadn't even spared him a glance.

"I fail to see why my presence is required here, mother," he interjected rudely, tapping his fingers on the table in frustration, hoping to gain her attention.

He grinned wolfishly as he noticed his mother's eyes narrow imperceptibly at his ill-mannered approach. Surely she would scold him for it, however, he was quickly disappointed to realize that she still didn't acknowledge him or any of her children, as she kept conversing with the two enforcers that now appeared to be nervous, pointing at documents, folders, an envelope, and what appeared to be a newspaper clipping strewn between them on the table. The rest of the vampires that were talking amongst themselves, glanced his way for a brief moment until he raised an eyebrow at them, daring them to say something. Once they looked at his ring they quickly avoided his gaze before returning to their conversations.

_Cowards._

"Or mine," added Kol, grinning at his impatient, older brother.

Niklaus' stormy blue eyes met Kol's dark gaze, and he knew exactly what he was thinking. Tonight was supposed to the night they tested out a theory they had been wondering about since summer. Instead of sitting here, doing absolutely nothing, they could be elsewhere entertaining themselves. Killing something, having fun. His younger brother was the only one who enjoyed and partook in his hedonistic lifestyle. Prior to their mother's so called "urgent" call, they had been in the middle of a hunt. Kol had managed to feed a bit, but Klaus had not. His hunger only heightened his irritation.

"Be patient," said Elijah, the eldest and most reasonable of the siblings.

The brothers broke eye contact, to stare at their eldest brother. Elijah's words may have cautioned patience, but his face revealed that even he, too, was exhausted of waiting for his mother to properly address them.

Kol lifted his eyebrows at Elijah's facial expression, but remained silent and followed his brother's advice. Niklaus scoffed and disregarded his older sibling's words altogether.

"Well, as much as I might like to stay, I have pressing responsibilities I must attend to," he announced, intentionally scraping back his chair in a dramatic fashion and rising to his feet with such force that the lesser vampires in the rooms flinched. Knowing that his stunt had the desired effect pleased him immensely, but outwardly his features remained blank.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," spoke up Rebekah, his youngest sibling, momentarily pulling her gaze away from the ebony-haired vampire who had been shamelessly flirting with her for the last twenty minutes. Both Elijah and Kol glanced over at her, as if they had forgotten she was there. Niklaus, on the other hand, had been keenly aware of how uncharacteristically receptive his sister was being to the vampire's idiotic advancements.

_Must have had a row with Stefan, again._

The source of his thoughts then began to speak and said, "If mother called us here, it's for a reason."

His sister sighed, tucking a light blonde strand behind her ear. "If only we knew what that reason was," she added.

Esther Mikaelson, Matriarch of the Mikaelson family, turned toward her audacious son, pinning him with a strict stare, then shook her head. "Sit down," she said softly. Her children were so impatient.

Niklaus' eyes narrowed, but he begrudgingly sat back down. His eyes then narrowed even further as he took notice of how his sister's newest interest crudely leered at her.

Due to his hybrid heritage, he had a very sharp, heightened sense of smell, one that allowed him to smell the dark-haired vampire's rapidly rising arousal. It was a pungent smell that made his nostrils flare in disgust.

The lascivious look had made Rebekah visibly uncomfortable, she strategically crossed her arms over her chest. She covered her discomfort with a wan smile, but he could see right through it.

Esther closed the folder she was looking over, and leant back in her chair, a frown marring her beautiful features.

"We have a problem," she finally said, her gaze lingering on each of her children, as she addressed everyone at the table.

"Duh," insulted the ebony-haired vampire in a resentful tone, rolling his eyes at the matriarch of the Mikaelson clan before winking back at Rebekah. It was obvious that he was trying to impress her.

Elijah quirked an eyebrow at the young vampire's rude remark.

Niklaus growled, a low, menacing sound that froze everyone into silence, everyone except the dark-haired vampire. He was too preoccupied trying to convince a reluctant Rebekah to go on a date with him to notice the mounting danger swirling around him.

Esther sighed wearily. "Niklaus," she warned quietly, staring directly at him.

Kol's eyes brightened in anticipation, fully aware of his brother's impulse.

Klaus ignored the warning flashing in his mother's deep, hazel eyes.

"Well, well," he commenced, addressing the impudent vampire, a charming smile plastered on his handsome face, "and who might you be?"

It was the abrupt, tension-filled silence that had befallen over the room that alerted the oblivious dark-haired vampire that something was off. A sudden feeling of apprehension churned in his belly, but he ignored it, too determined to impress the gorgeous blonde vampire he had been seducing for the last twenty minutes. It wasn't as if he were in any immediate peril, he was a valuable witness, after all. Much more valuable alive than dead, so to speak.

Looking over at the enforcer that was addressing him, he lifted his chin in defiance. His eyes inspected his features then. The dark-blond curls, high cheekbones, pale eyes, fair skin, and aristocratic nose. He was undeniably attractive, his face comparative to any angelic depiction found in many paintings, but there was something unnerving about his eyes. They were menacing and unblinking, seeming to have more commonality with a predatory animal, as opposed to an angel.

As the dark-haired vampire continued to gaze at him, his cold eyes appeared to change, brightening into a molten gold hue.

Flabbergasted, the vampire gasped, then blinked and found that he was still staring into a pair of blue-grey eyes that were now openly mocking him. Had he imagined it?

Movement caught his eye, shifting in his chair, he saw his friends turning to look at him as if he were crazy. He couldn't really blame them. In all of his vampiric life, he had never been so scared of an enforcer before, and he definitely didn't scare easily. This guy practically radiated danger, his unblinking eyes were extremely disturbing. He swallowed nervously, wishing he had kept his mouth shut, silently cursing his sharp-tongue and weakness for pretty girls.

"I'm waiting," pressed the blond enforcer, snapping him out of his thoughts.

He cleared his throat again, determined not to let his fear show.

"Zeke," he replied, his face a mask of impassivity, yet his voice quivered.

Niklaus' smile widened even further as the stench of fear replaced the vampire's arousal.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked, his glacial eyes fixed on Zeke.

Zeke's ebony eyebrows drew together in concentration, then he replayed the name the Mikaelson matriarch had previously mentioned over in his head and stiffened. Enlightenment quickly seeped into his mind. The yellow eyes now made sense, he hadn't imagined it.

"K-Klaus," stuttered the now terrified vampire, his eyes widening in recognition.

"In the flesh," confirmed Niklaus, his pleasant smile fading, twisting into an evil smirk. His ghostly blue eyes began glowing amber, darkened veins appearing underneath them.

"Niklaus-" began repeating his mother, but it was too late.

A gust of wind and the dark-haired vampire never saw Klaus move, but he felt something tear at his neck, viciously ripping through flesh and muscle. He screamed in pain as his jugular become exposed. Blood began spurting from the ugly wound, and Klaus leant into him, feasting on his bleeding neck. He greedily drank, holding the vampire like a rag doll, supporting his weight with a single, clawed hand dug deep into the back of his neck.

Once he had his fill, he easily ripped the man's head from his shoulders, carelessly dropping the headless body to the floor with a loud thud. The head rolled noisily, leaving a crimson trail behind, and landed close to his sister's feet.

He licked his ruby lips, and turned to his mother while his gleaming golden eyes and lengthened incisors were still visible. A trickle of blood dripped down his chin, staining the front of his grey shirt.

"Yes, mother?" he asked, feigning innocence. His gentle tone was at complete odds with his currently monstrous, hybrid image.

Esther didn't answer, merely gave him a pointed look. She didn't even flicker an eyelash at her son's brutality, having grown desensitized to it throughout the long centuries, at one point even encouraging it. Any other given day, she would have given her son an earful, but right now they had bigger problems than her incorrigible son's lack of manners to worry about.

Niklaus looked around the table, he spread his arms out in invitation, "Is there anyone else that would like to say something?"

A few vampires gulped, and kept their gazes carefully averted from the unpredictable enforcer. It was difficult to predict what was going through his twisted mind; his delicate features were calm, but his yellow eyes were eerily wild. It made everyone, aside from his family, very wary.

Most of them had no idea they had been in the presence of the hybrid. Every supernatural creature had heard of the frightening rumors about him, of his cruelty and complete lack of remorse. Of the fact that he exclusively drank from vampires, despite the taboo surrounding the act. Some even thought his existence was a myth, so great was his power that it seemed unrealistic.

To the supernatural community, he was their version of the devil.

The fear in the room was palpable, and Klaus was enjoying it.

His blood-stained lips then curved into a taunting smirk, "Didn't think so."

Niklaus barely spared his sister a glance for what he had done. A few droplets of blood had splattered on her face. She looked horrified. Her perfectly painted lips formed a comical 'O' as she looked down at the pooling blood and head that lay at her feet.

"Rebekah, love, close your mouth," taunted Niklaus. He smirked as his sister promptly shut her mouth, and raised her bright blue eyes to glare at him.

"You ruined my new shoes!" Rebekah screeched, finally finding her voice.

He rolled his eyes, leave it to his sister to be more appalled by the ruination of her shoes rather than by a mutilated corpse.

"They were hideous to begin with," Niklaus replied. He was feeling less agitated now, his hunger satiated. He had been itching to kill something ever since his hunt had been disrupted earlier.

Kol twisted around in his seat to get a better look at the discarded head, "Bravo!" he praised, approving of his brother's actions. He suddenly became aware of his mother's eyes on his form. "I mean… Poor lad. Didn't deserve it," he corrected, mock sincerity lacing his tone. His eyes still glinting mischievously.

"Here," said Elijah, offering his handkerchief to his sister, attempting to suppress the slight smile tugging at his lips. Yes, Niklaus' mannerisms were atrocious, something that had not changed over the centuries even with his best efforts to refine them, but something else hadn't changed with them. His love and loyalty toward his mother and siblings. Cruel and as heartless as his little brother liked to appear to others, he still cared deeply for his family, even with their constant bickering. A small fact that pleased Elijah immensely.

Esther drew in a relaxing breath and then calmly began passing out folders to the vampires at the table, once again shaking her head in disapproval while doing so. She loved her children above anything, but sometimes their mannerisms or lack thereof were comparative to that of animals. One would think centuries of existence would teach them patience and control over their impulses.

"What did you mean by problem?" asked a curious Elijah, glancing at the folders. His mother seemed unusually tense.

Esther evaded the direct question.

"Does everyone have a folder?" she questioned, her voice taking a commanding, business-like tone that all her children were intimately familiar with.

Elijah frowned, whatever their mother was keeping from them must be serious. That tone never meant anything good.

Niklaus plopped back down on his richly upholstered boudoir chair, staring at the folder now in front of him. He looked down at his hands which were still sticky and bloody.

He motioned one of the servants in the room to bring him a serviette before focusing his attention back to his mother.

Esther proceeded to slide a newspaper article in the middle of the table and pointed at it with her index finger.

"That is what I meant," she explained, locking eyes with her eldest son, Elijah, for a moment before looking at everyone else, urging them to take a closer look.

Niklaus finished wiping his hands and quickly read over the headline:  **Bizarre Ritual Murders? Child Slayer Still At Large**

He saw the picture of a little boy's face, couldn't be more than 9. He looked serene. Eyes closed as if he were sleeping, but the caption below divulged that the only type of sleeping this boy was doing was eternal.  ** _Most recent victim; Body unidentified._**

His stormy blue eyes quickly scanned the rest of the article. He even read it twice to get the facts right. A boy had been murdered in Merriam, Kansas about four months ago, a girl in Maryville, Tennessee the following month. Two more boys in Savannah, Georgia since last month, and now another one in Staunton, Virginia. The last murder victim was found yesterday.

The murders were gruesome, following the same grisly pattern. The assumed ages ranged from 8 to 10. All of the children's bodies remained unidentified, found inexplicably dressed in over-sized, adult clothing. They were stabbed, bludgeoned, and had their throats slit. Organs were apparently missing, but the article didn't specify which ones.

Niklaus' brows knitted together in confusion.

They didn't appear to be vampire victims, the article said nothing of exsanguination. If they were vampire kills, the enforcers of their corresponding cities should have taken care of it already, long before they had become a sensational story for humans.

A noise that suspiciously sounded like a sniffle caught his attention.

Surveying the table, he watched as Rebekah bit the inside of her lip and tried to blink away tears. Her emotions were always so easily readable on her face, like an open book. She always did have a soft spot for children. Elijah's lips were pressed into a thin line, and Kol merely looked bored.

"Did vampires do this?" he asked, perplexed. None of the details indicated toward a vampiric force being involved.

"No, humans did," denied his mother, an unreadable expression on her face as she locked eyes with him.

His eyes blazed with anger.

"So this is it? This is why you have called us? To discuss humans killing humans. Humans die all the bloody time," he snapped, surprising himself for being so short with his mother.

He was cross to have wasted so much time already on such a trivial matter.

"Open the folders," commanded Esther to everyone, disregarding her son's foul temper.

They all complied.

Niklaus opened his folder with exasperated force. It was, unsurprisingly, full of copies of crime scenes, autopsy reports, notes, and autopsy photos. The children in the pictures seemed to match the description of the details in the newspaper, except they revealed the children had rosaries planted post-mortem, into their hands, making it seem as if they were permanently praying. Hearts and tongues were missing, but most bizarrely of all, they had the word "demon" crudely carved into their small backs.

He had to admit, some of the details were repugnant and puzzling, but not enough to intrigue him or evoke some sort of pitying reaction. Throughout the centuries he had seen many more sickening, perplexing atrocities committed by mortals in the name of religion. This was next to nothing compared to the horrors he had been a witness to, or a creator of during his life.

Why should he and his family care about these ritualistic human deaths? Deranged mortals were always a problematic constant in the human world, just as rogues were in theirs, but the humans had their own inferior, less efficient versions of enforcers to take care of them.

Also, it wasn't as if there was a shortage of humans, they all knew that. Vampire sustenance was not on the verge of extinction. Prey was more than abundant.

"How does this concern us?" drawled Kol, voicing his thoughts, a quizzical look on his face as he finished browsing through the copies. He neatly shoved them back into the folder, raising it for emphasis and continued, "This is a mortal problem."

Klaus looked over at his brother, silently agreeing with him before he resumed flicking through the remainder of the photos. One or two of the victims seemed vaguely familiar, but he had been around long enough to know that many humans shared similar physical characteristics without being directly related. It was also equally probable that they were descendants from some of the vampires he had met throughout the centuries. Either way, the victims were still human, therefore unworthy of his concern.

"This is not a mortal problem, it is ours," briskly insisted their mother, her voice now stern as she gazed down at a large, brown clasp envelope firmly placed in her hands.

"How so?" challenged Klaus, even though deep down he was getting an uneasy feeling he couldn't quite shake.

"Because it involves your… brother," answered Esther, taut with emotion. It had been decades since her son decided to end his life, but she still couldn't talk about it without feeling devastated.

"Finn?" gently probed Rebekah, seeking confirmation.

Esther curtly nodded, opening the clasp folder with care, pulling out a photo.

"Finn is dead," replied Kol, his usually mirthful dark eyes softening. He knew how much Finn's death had hurt his mother. Everyone had felt the loss, but none so keenly as her.

Esther slid the photo to the middle of the table, next to the newspaper clipping, shocking her children into silence.

It was a picture of a vandalized cemetery, the very same cemetery Finn had instructed his family to bury him in after he had taken his own life about half a century ago.

Elijah reached out and slowly picked up the picture, tilting his head inquisitively, and eyes hardening with contempt.

"Is this some kind of joke?" he ventured, closely scrutinizing seasonal details of the photo. The surrounding trees were a vibrant green, and full of life. The sun a radiant, golden sphere, its rays of light shining a kaleidoscope of colors on the grass floor and on a familiar, unearthed coffin. A stark contrast to the autumn-filled scenery that had greeted him and his sister a day ago.

They had gone and visited their brother's grave just yesterday, and as far as they were concerned, the grave site was undisturbed and Finn's coffin was still buried.

"This doesn't make any sense," added Rebekah, her blonde hair shielding her face like a curtain as she leaned closer to Elijah, staring at the picture. She then looked up into her eldest brother's eyes, communicating her own disbelief.

"That's not real," said Kol, eyes widening, gesturing toward the photograph.

"I'm afraid it is," replied Esther, "I sent a team to confirm it. Your brother's coffin was still there when they dug up his grave, but his body is missing."

Niklaus went still as rage welled up inside him. For the last few months, maybe even years he and his family had been apparently paying respect to an empty coffin. Someone had tricked them and now they were bragging about it. Whoever did this had just condemned themselves to death, a slow, torturous death.

"Why would anyone steal his body?" he demanded, his mind in overdrive searching for a valid reason.

_Ransom._

It was the only plausible explanation his fury-clouded mind could come up. Someone must have stolen his brother's body and was now expecting his family to pay them money or give them something in exchange for its safe return. Klaus' eyes darkened at the thought. Nobody, absolutely nobody, messed with his family and got away with it.

"We have reason to believe his remains were used in creating the corrupted cure, sir," informed one of the enforcers.

Klaus blinked, shocked, as the words registered in his mind.

_Corrupted cure? What the hell?_

The thought of his brother's remains being used in anything made his blood boil.

"Who the devil are you? He snapped, turning to face the enforcer who had unwittingly made himself the target of his hostility.

"I am Charles, enforcer of Norfolk, Virginia, sir," replied the enforcer, his head bowing slightly in deference. He gave Esther a brief concerned glance, fearing becoming the intimidating hybrid's next meal.

Esther's warm eyes caught the enforcer's frightened look, she turned to her angry son. "They," she chided, pointing to the Charles and the other enforcer, "were the ones that found the witnesses and brought them to me."

Klaus had no idea what his mother was talking about, but he stopped glaring at the Norfolk enforcer, knowing his mother was subtly telling him to play nice.

"The corrupted cure?" parroted Kol aloud, his voice heavily tinged with skepticism. The cure was gone, Finn had seen to that when he drank it, in hopes of becoming mortal. Unfortunately, since they were never human to begin with, the cure hadn't done a damn thing to Finn, except cause him to writhe in agony for a couple of hours. No cure remained, corrupted or otherwise.

Kol's hands fisted in anger thinking about his brother's senseless suicide.

The enforcer merely nodded at Kol, and refocused his attention back to the Mikaelson matriarch as she pulled a leather drawstring pouch out of the clasp envelope.

Esther quickly opened it and gently began pulling out what appeared to be rings. Not just any rings, garnet rings.

Niklaus stared at the jewelry, baffled. Emblematic garnet rings that enforcers wore were difficult to come across, especially since said rings enhanced a vampire's abilities. The rings commanded respect and sparked fear in the vampire community, so it was very unlikely that an enforcer would willingly give up their ring, which only meant one thing. The owners of those rings were most likely dead.

"Where did you get those?" he inquired quietly, suddenly feeling dejected.

His mother met his gaze for a moment, knowing how much esteem he held for his fellow enforcers, before resuming her task.

"They were sent to me this morning, along with the picture," answered Esther.

"By whom?" he asked, pressing for more information.

There was a pause as Esther debated on how to best answer the question.

"I don't know," she finally answered as honestly as she could, her voice stiff. It was true, she didn't know who it was that sent her the taunting information, directly threatening her species and beloved children, but she was determined to find out.

"What do you-"Klaus started, but was stopped when his mother held up a silencing hand as she took a deep stabilizing breath, then began addressing the whole table with unwavering authority hardening her usually soft voice into iron.

"There are a group of humans that have been hunting and killing vampires for months, undetected until now. They have somehow managed to create a concoction, a corrupted version of the cure which "cures" vampirism by temporarily reversing age. It reverts a vampire back to a younger age, an age in which they were still human," said Esther, her voice was calm, almost as if she were talking about the weather instead of a potentially catastrophic threat to the vampire race.

The sudden silence that followed did not surprise her, she had expected as much.

She noticed as her children sat up straighter, now giving her their undivided attention, their expressions flickering between uncertainty, disbelief, and shock.

Klaus looked down at the autopsy reports and photos, and then it hit him. Vampires. Some of the victims were enforcers, which explained the discarded rings and why some of them had seemed so familiar. It also explained the victims' over-sized clothing and unknown identities.

"Bloody Hell," whispered Kol, also coming to the same conclusion as Klaus.

After giving them some time to digest the shocking revelation, Esther continued, "Those child victims you see before you were once vampires, enforcers to be exact. As of right now, only enforcers seem to be the targets. We currently have no solid leads, but we do have witnesses."

Niklaus watched, curious, as she gestured toward the rest of the nearly forgotten lesser vampires in the room.

_What were they witnesses to?_

"They seem to be religiously motivated and think it is their holy mission to kill us all," said the Mikaelson matriarch, gesturing toward Elijah to hand her the cemetery picture.

Securing the photo in her grasp with numb fingers, Esther flipped it over, holding it up high enough for everyone to read the scribbled note on the back of it.

Niklaus' eyes narrowed into slits as they zeroed in on the messy writing.

"That sounds religiously motivated to me," observed Kol, reading over the note with a scowl on his face, "although they're wrong on the demon part."

"Why are they only after enforcers? Do these humans not know what they do for their pathetic lives? That they are the ones that protect mankind from being reduced to cattle?" asked Rebekah after a long moment of silence, her voice practically dripping venom.

Her longtime unofficial boyfriend, Stefan, was an enforcer. The idea of him suffering a similar fate made her skin crawl.

Klaus briefly glanced over at his sister, knowing she was thinking about their mutual friend, and her lover, Stefan.

"That still remains a mystery," replied their mother.

"Are you positive humans did this?'" Klaus asked, a bit dubious, despite the surmounting evidence.

"Yes, I already compelled the witnesses to make sure, and the bodies of the victims are riddled with human prints, no indication of witchcraft is present on any of them. The wounds were made with a screwdriver, and various knives," confirmed Esther.

Because of their genetic adermatoglyphia, everyone at the table dismissed the notion of werewolves being involved when they heard about the prints. Witches were not fond of killing humans, let alone torturing them, however, on the strange occasion that they did kill a mortal, their magic always left a residual telltale sign clearly visible to supernatural creatures.

"Witches would not risk another war. Their numbers are low enough as it is. It makes sense for them to aid us, not try eliminate us," rationalized Elijah.

Esther nodded in agreement to her son's astute observation. He was right, as much as they disliked it, the supernatural races had to stick together to survive.

"A screwdriver and knives? Typical. It definitely sounds like a human's handiwork to me. That's the problem with people today, they have no imagination when it comes to torture," voiced Kol, scoffing, while glancing at Niklaus.

Niklaus looked up from inspecting the crime scene photos and autopsy reports when he felt someone's eyes on his form.

Ghostly blue crashed with espresso brown as the brother's locked eyes and shared an understanding look. When it came to torture, they had quite the imagination. Even after centuries of doing it, they always found new, exciting methods to torture their victims into insanity before disposing of them. Their intended plan for the evening was a testament to their creative cruelty.

"Humans. It's a group, Kol," corrected Elijah, his brows furrowing in displeasure at his younger brother's lack of seriousness. He clearly did not seem the grasp the gravity of the situation at hand.

Kol shrugged his shoulders in indifference.

"I need to send in the envelope, rings and photograph to a forensic laboratory to be properly analyzed to confirm if they have prints on them. The envelope, in particular, has a strong lingering human scent on it. I'm certain if it does have prints, they will be a match to those found on the bodies. The FBI has been unable to find anyone in their databases that match the prints, so I doubt we will fare any better," informed their mother, delicately sniffing the envelope.

"But if they aren't a match and have different prints on them, we might be able to get hit on the AFIS," added an optimistic Rebekah, regarding the rings with a pensive look on her face.

"Hmm, I suppose it's possible," replied Esther, her doubt audible.

Tearing his gaze away from his brother, Klaus resumed browsing through the photos and reports.

He was aware of his mother's thoroughness and of the fact that she had many vampires infiltrating law enforcement throughout the country, but he still was hoping to find some sort of hidden detail she had overlooked pointing toward another supernatural creature's culpability in the murders, and was unsuccessful in doing so.

_Damn it._

Humans were hunting them, again.

As much as he hated to admit it, humans were their biggest threat. Hell, they knew from personal experience that mortals could beat them with sheer numbers alone.

They weren't even hunting lesser vampires, they were going after the strongest, most vital members of their community. Enforcers maintained balance, if rogue vampires found out about the absence of their punishing force in certain cities, it wouldn't be long before they took advantage, killing without discretion, inevitably leading to many exsanguinated bodies being found.

With the rise of vampire media, it wouldn't take much to convince mortals that they walked among them, threatening the existence of mankind. It would be chaos. Worst of all, these vampire hunters appeared to know too much about vampires, if they gathered enough evidence they could eventually expose them if they weren't properly taken care of.

"We need to find them," he decreed, his lips compressed into a thin line.

"I know, and we will find them before they expose us," his mother replied, seemingly picking up on his inner thoughts.

"Do the witnesses still have their memories intact?" asked Klaus, eyeing the three lesser vampires with curiosity.

They shifted uncomfortably under his ghostly gaze.

"I haven't erased them, and yes you may compel them to give you some insight on what it is you are hunting," answered Esther, fully aware of what her son was indirectly asking her.

"I'll tell you everything I know if you don't kill me," shakily implored one of the witnesses, flinching in fear from Klaus' eager gaze, terrified of what he would do to him.

Klaus chuckled, clearly amused, relishing the helpless fear shinning in the lesser vampire's eyes.

"Or I could just compel you and then kill you," he said, a wolfish smile that didn't quite reach his cold eyes playing on his face.

"Please, please don't kill me," begged the frightened vampire, wildly scanning around him to see if anyone would help him. Much to his dismay, nobody said anything, they just kept watching, even his friends were keeping their eyes averted from him, refusing to meet his pleading gaze.

"Tell me everything you know, what you saw," commanded Klaus, disregarding the vampire's whimpering, his hypnotizing blue-grey eyes dilating as they bore into his fearful eyes.

"My friends and I were hunting for hitchhikers in the woods near Staunton when we smelt blood coming from an old, hidden cabin. There were three humans torturing a kid with a screwdriver, stabbing him all over. There was so much blood. It smelled so sweet, so good. We were planning on draining them all, and I was planning on keeping the boy to myself, but they shot us with a tranquilizer gun before we could do much. Zeke was the only that got close enough to break one of the human's arm, but then he got tranquilized too. We were in a ton of pain, so much that we blacked out. When we woke the next day we were on a beach, in the middle of the day. The sun wasn't burning us and we were children again, but the pain was still there. It was agony. After a while, we started noticing that we were slowly aging and the pain was fading. We all stopped eventually aging when reached the age we were turned at. Then the hunger started. I never felt hunger like that in my entire life. It was like being a vampire baby all over again, but worse, so much worse. We killed about ten people before those two enforcers there stopped us and brought us here, then that lady there interrogated us and compelled us not to kill any-"

"That's enough," cut in Klaus, leaning back into his chair and running an agitated hand through his blond curls, absorbing the information.

The vampire blinked, his hazy mind slowly clearing. His eyes widened once he realized that he had been compelled.

"Did you take care of the bodies?" Klaus asked, facing the two enforcers.

"We did, but we did not have time to find the cabin. Our hands were full trying to restrain the witnesses. They were practically feral," admitted Charles, looking sheepish. The other enforcer's face held a similar expression.

Esther cleared her throat, attempting to regain everyone's attention.

"You both did well," complimented Klaus, giving the enforcers an appreciative nod before turning back to his mother.

Esther began giving out orders.

Kol looked over at his mother, already knowing what she would instruct him to do. "I can go look for the cabin," he hastily volunteered.

"No, I'll look for the cabin, "objected Rebekah, a hopeful gleam in her eye as she tried bribing her mother with a brilliant smile. Stefan lived close to where the witnesses claimed to have seen the cabin, and even though she was upset with him, her concern for him overpowered her anger.

"No, Niklaus will go look for the cabin. Kol, you'll do damage control," informed their mother.

Kol groaned in dismay. "I always do damage control," he complained.

"Then you should be used to it by now," rebuked his mother, her voice exaggeratedly sweet.

Kol merely rolled his eyes at his mother's teasing.

"Why can't I look for the cabin?" whined Rebekah, her radiant smile fading into a pout.

"Because your brother is an enforcer, and the best tracker we have," explained Esther.

Klaus smirked at Rebekah, feeling smug. "Don't worry, little sister. I'll give him your regards."

"Burn in Hell," said Rebekah, glaring at her older brother, knowing exactly whom he was referring to.

Klaus' grin widened even further.


	2. Chapter 2

"I can't do that!" protested an incredulous Caroline, her emerald eyes widening in utter disbelief while she gingerly gestured toward the stage with an elbow, mindful of the two whiskey drinks in her hands.

She was, for once, grateful for the heavy layers of clown-like makeup plastered on her face, knowing her face was burning a bright scarlet underneath.

"You either do it, or you get fired," contemptuously answered a masculine voice.

Caroline's small fingers tightened around the glass, her knuckles turning white. She quickly looked away before he saw the anxiety undoubtedly swirling in her eyes, an instinctive reaction evoked by the familiar threat he had been spewing for the last couple of hours. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

As her hidden gaze wandered on to the stage she had been pointing toward earlier, a chill of panic ran down her spine.

She couldn't do it.

It was one thing to wear an outrageously revealing outfit, something that did help in attracting more customers, thus bettering the chances of receiving bigger tips, but stripping was a different matter completely.

Putting on a façade of confidence when customers unashamedly ogled her, and threw crude suggestions her way was difficult enough as it was, she couldn't imagine being able to convincingly pretend to be a vixen while she undressed on stage.

She involuntarily cringed as she watched the current girl on the stage seductively lick a pole, eliciting a loud, appreciative reaction from the drunken men in the club. They were clapping and yelling as if it were the most amazing thing they had ever seen. Even through the billowing clouds of smoke, she could still see some of the more lecherous men reaching for their groins, thinking the tables and dim lighting were enough to hide what they were doing.

 _Gentlemen's club, right,_ she thought sarcastically.

'Gentlemen' would not be the word she would choose to describe the type of men she had to deal with on the job. In fact, it was possibly the last thing she would ever think to call them.

_More like a club full of-_

"Well?" rudely prompted the voice, interrupting her scathing thought.

Even with the noise of the blaring music and loud uproar from the crowd pounding in her ears, she could hear him perfectly, he had a distinctly commanding voice. A deep voice that she knew many women found alluring, one that over the past couple of hours she had come to dread yet again.

She tore her gaze away from the stage and looked over to the owner of the voice, the man who had been threatening to fire her for what seemed to be the millionth time this night

Tyler Lockwood, manager of the seedy gentlemen's club she worked in, was good-looking. The female employees that constantly flocked to him without trying to hide their obvious interest in him were proof of that.

He had short raven hair, dark eyes, surrounded by ridiculously long lashes, which glittered like coal, and sun-kissed skin. He was well-built, yet not very tall. Not short, either. In his customary business suit, befitting of his position, he looked polished and professional, everything she knew he was not.

She had to admit that, superficially, he appeared to be quite a catch.

If she hadn't discovered his deceptive, misogynistic, and self-absorbed attitude, Caroline would have regretted not having had accepted to go on one of the many dates he asked her out on a few years ago.

She was secretly thankful her busy schedule, which often made her feel lonely by limiting her time to socialize and make friends, had helped her dodge that bullet.

Caroline recalled that with each rejection, he had become increasingly cold toward her, constantly reminding her, in what he considered to be "subtle" ways, that he was the one in charge, that he could end her only source of income on a whim. In her opinion, Tyler was about as subtle as a gun.

It angered her to think that she once had a crush on him.

A long time had passed since she first met Tyler, asking for employment. She remembered that in her desperation she had told him about the dire financial situation she was in, hoping to convince him to hire her, promising him that she was a hard worker. Much to her surprise, he did hire her and even gave her sweet words of encouragement. It was in that moment that her crush began, but the kind, gentle man with whom she became infatuated with, the very same one that, for a fleeting moment, had been the focus of her dreams, ended up being one of her worst nightmares.

In the end her crush had been brief, about as brief as Tyler's "nice guy" act.

She sometimes regretted having told him of her financial trouble, wishing she had kept that fact to herself, however, she often wondered if that was the main reason why he had hired her to begin with, not to help her out of the goodness of his rotten heart as she once gullibly thought, but to use it against her.

Every time she reminisced back to when she found him charming, even sweet, she had the urge to slap herself.

 _Definitely a wolf in sheep's clothing,_ Caroline thought, as she presently restudied Tyler's deceiving good looks.

He was as attractive as he was temperamental, his extremely volatile temper carefully hidden underneath his charming façade.

When it really came down to it, in the beginning, the worst part of her job had not been dressing in scandalous clothing, exposing more skin than what she was comfortable with, or flirting out of necessity with perverted customers that occasionally tried to grope her. No, all of that was easily tolerable in comparison. The worst part was being Tyler's personal doormat.

She quickly learned how to handle intoxicated men with lewd intentions, but she never learned how to handle Tyler, for he was in a whole different league. Alcohol never seemed to dull his sharp mind, deceiving him was impossible, whereas drunk customers easily bought into her lies, and unlike other men, he was never dissuaded by her polite indifference.

Even with her tremendous self-discipline, there were many occasions in where she was tempted to yell at him, or at least say something back when he insulted her, but knowing he was only looking for an excuse to fire her, she had swallowed her pride and allowed him to have his childish fun.

Caroline had assumed he would eventually tire of taunting her, but she had been wrong, very wrong.

He had continued, without any indication of stopping anytime soon, to make her job as stressful as possible and would have continued doing so until she probably quit.

As much as she had felt the urge to quit her degrading job, despite her resilience, on more than one occasion during the first few months, especially under Tyler's constant torment, she knew it was the only way she could continue to pay for her Grandmother's medication and treatments.

The city she had moved into with her grandmother wasn't very big, and with its Vegas-like reputation and atmosphere for indulging sins, it was far from her interpretation of picturesque, but it was the only city in the state that had an affordable oncology center. It wasn't a great place, but it was the best she could do under the circumstances.

Unsurprisingly, if you were a young female without a college degree, had minimal work experience, and you needed to make good money in this city, your job options were limited and unsavory.

Initially, she refused to even consider those questionable options, disregarding the abundant, racy neon signs she had seen come alive at night to beckon men like moths to a flame. She was determined to find a job outside of stripping, cocktail waitressing, or any other strip club associated job that involved minimal clothing and degradation. Luckily for her, she quickly found employment in a thrift store close to her apartment complex, which even spared her from taking the dreaded city bus.

During that time, she genuinely thought everything was starting to look up, even her grandmother seemed livelier.

However, her optimistic outlook was short-lived, the income derived from the few hours she worked there wasn't anywhere near enough to cover her small bills, much less the bigger ones accumulated by her grandmother's illness.

She then decided to take on a second job at the pizza parlor across the store, hopeful that the additional money would lessen her debts, but even with that money, the bills and debt were still stacking up, drowning her.

It wasn't long before she started to look at the neon signs with curiosity, then desperation.

Caroline always liked to think she chose the least demeaning job, but the way Tyler always insulted her, made her feel like a cheap sell out, not to mention the times he thoroughly looked her over in her very revealing uniform.

She knew he liked making her feel terrible, she could see it in every mocking smirk and wink he threw her way.

Unfortunately for him, and luckily for her, Stefan Salvatore, the bartender and the brother of the club's owner had taken a platonic liking to her, ending his reign of terror.

Whenever Tyler got too carried away with his harshness and was particularly nasty to her, Stefan would intervene on her behalf.

It wasn't as if Caroline was weak, she had been through many more challenging obstacles in her life, and she had been able to endure Tyler's treatment for an entire year on her own, but she was still extremely grateful for her ally.

Stefan didn't have to filter his words like she did, and Tyler couldn't manipulate his behavior by threatening to fire him.

Ever since she and Stefan had developed their friendship, Tyler's comments were kept to a minimum. He was still a temperamental jerk, but with Stefan around he was more bearable to work with.

She gave a small, tremulous sigh, desperately wishing Stefan had been working tonight.

Tyler always took advantage of the rare occasions in which Stefan didn't work. He would always seat more customers than she could handle in her section, make snide comments, or even call her in to work ridiculously early.

She was used to that petty pattern of his, it didn't faze her anymore, but tonight it was different.

He was different.

Crueler, angrier, and more… Unhinged.

This man, this version of Tyler Lockwood, made her heart thunder in panic.

She couldn't explain it, but tonight she was genuinely wary of him. He practically exuded violence, it was almost as if he were barely holding back from doing something terrible. A ticking time bomb waiting to go off. She could see it in the way his body was rigidly tense, his hands constantly finding something to crush in between them, his back and forth pacing reminiscent of a caged predator.

Every time he got near her, her instincts screamed at her to put distance between them.

The anger that shone in his eyes every time she defied him tonight made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end, and her heart race.

He used to make her heart race whenever he was near a few years ago, much like he was doing now, except that her heart was currently beating in alarm, not in exhilaration.

Tyler was making her work a longer shift than usual on her "day off", and earlier had made her perform additional duties that she knew for a fact were not in her cocktail waitress job description. When she had pointed that out to him, he had furiously given her an ultimatum that seemed to become his newest mantra, either she did what he asked or he would fire her. At one point, she could have sworn he actually snarled at her.

Now he expected her to leave her tables unattended, miss out on the tips she had been working toward, and to take the stage and strip.

Caroline glanced over at the bar, an image of Stefan's kind, handsome face flashing in her mind, her eyes darted to the luxurious charm bracelet encircling her delicate wrist, and then she straightened her spine. Being friends with Stefan had built up all of the self-confidence that Tyler had previously set out to destroy.

She wasn't going to do it. Enough was enough. If it came down to it, she would rather get fired and beg Stefan for her job back, than to keep her job by stripping at Tyler's command.

Caroline refused to be reduced to being his personal doormat again.

Once had been more than enough for her.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep, stabilizing breath, feeling Tyler's eyes on her.

"Go ahead, fire me," she answered him dismissively, turning to deliver the two whiskey drinks in her hands to their rightful tables. She had tried to make her voice sound as steady as possible, but in spite of her effort, it still came out slightly wobbly.

She had had barely moved a foot when a large hand encircled her thin, upper arm in a vise-like grip.

The glasses in her hands almost slipped, sloshing their alcoholic content over her cleavage and bare midriff as Tyler harshly spun her around to face him.

Her vision swam from the swiveling momentum, unsteady legs threatened to give out underneath her, but Tyler's bruising grip kept her from falling.

His fingers painfully curled into her arm.

"Let go," she demanded, horrified of his hold and his nearness. The strong smell of his cologne, intermingled with the aroma of spilt whiskey, was overpowering her sense of smell to the point of being nauseating.

He was so close that she could feel the heat emanating from his body, his hot breath fanning against her.

Judging by the odd, almost glowing glint in his eyes, she could tell he was losing control of his infamous temper.

She tried jerking her arm free, but his grip never budged. He replied to her struggling by tightening his grip even further. His incredible strength made her realize how truly vulnerable she was to him.

Her eyes searched around, hoping to find someone to help her, but she knew that the customers were either too busy spectating, or too drunk to help. The few female employees that were close by, gave her envious looks, clearly misinterpreting the situation.

Tears started stinging her eyes from the pain, but she tried blinking them away, refusing to spill tears in Tyler's repugnant presence even as he almost broke her arm.

Glancing anxiously toward the warm, yet brutal hand on her arm, she reasoned that the actual probability of her arm being broken was quickly rising, along with the pain.

"Let go, p-please," she supplicated him, breathing the words through gritted teeth. How she hated begging for anything or to anyone, especially to him.

Tyler didn't loosen his grip as he leant his head down, whispering over the music into her ear.

"You think Stefan is going to get you your job back if I fire you, don't you?" he sneered, glancing at her luxurious bracelet.

She stiffened.

 _Yes,_ her mind supplied for her. That's exactly what she thought, but she didn't want to aggravate him even more, knowing how much he hated being reminded of Stefan's higher authority in comparison to his own.

"No", she replied, lifting her chin in convincement, but her eyes betrayed her.

Tyler's eyes narrowed, a knowing expression dawning on his face as he abruptly released her, forcefully shoving her away.

Caroline staggered back, but found her footing before she careened into a passing co-worker.

She glared back at him, determined not to let her fear show, even though she definitely felt scared. His roughness had taken her by surprise.

"You'll bore him eventually," Tyler promised, disdain coating every word.

"Bore him of what? Being friends? _"_ She sarcastically snapped, annoyance flickering in her green depths at the insinuation.

"Spare me the act," he accused, his eyes locking on hers. "We both know why Stefan keeps protecting you, but even you should know that he will get tired of you sooner or later", he continued insultingly, "and when he does, what will you be left with? You will no longer have a job here, and every club in this damn city will know of your ineptitude and subpar performance as an employee. I'll make sure you're never hired again."

Caroline wanted to say something, she really did, but all she could do was stand there mutely while Tyler spun on his heel and began walking back into his office, not sparing her a second glance.

She looked down at the two glasses still firmly held in her hands, and released a shuddering breath she hadn't realized she was holding in. She wasn't sure if she was technically fired or not, but she was anxious to leave. Glancing down at her watch, she was relieved to see it was already 3:45 AM, signaling the end of her extended shift.

Caroline approached the nearest unoccupied table she could find, gently depositing the empty glasses on it. On any other given day, she would have taken the glasses back to the dishwasher herself, but she was too tired, not to mention she wasn't particularly looking forward to running into one of Tyler's devoted fans. Some of her co-workers already disliked her enough as it was for being friends with Stefan, she couldn't even begin to imagine how more rude they would be toward her, if they thought her and Tyler were involved somehow. It was comical to her, hysterical even how blinded some of her co-workers were by Tyler's charm.

She rubbed her aching arm, gingerly avoiding the outlined fingers on it, knowing a bruise would undoubtedly form there.

That's when she noticed her bracelet was missing. She looked for it on the surrounding floor, but couldn't locate it. Carefully retracing her steps, she eventually found it in the place where she and her manager had been 'talking'. Her eyes furrowed as she assessed what she had previously thought was her bracelet. It was torn and misshapen, and if it weren't for the familiar charms crookedly hanging off it, she would have never guessed it was the once beautiful bracelet Stefan had given her.

"It's destroyed," she sadly whispered to herself, gazing at it in her small hand.

A deep resonating laugh caught her attention. She glanced over to the office, cringing as she saw Tyler intently observing her from the door frame of his office.

_Bastard._

Marching up to him, and ignoring her self-preservation instincts, she dangled the bracelet in front of his smirking face.

She intended to be angry, and fearless as she asked, "Are you the one responsible for this?"

But her voice didn't have the desired effect as Tyler nodded and gave her a look full of contempt that made her take a cautious step back.

"You had no right to-"she began scolding, before Tyler abruptly cut her off by slamming the door in her face.

She nervously sighed, and couldn't help but wonder how on earth he had so thoroughly broken her bracelet with only his bare hands. She knew he was strong, but being able to bend a thick, platinum bracelet beyond the point of recognition required some serious strength.

Glancing down at her arm, the physical reminder of his brute strength, she shuddered in remembrance of its force.

Defeated and thoroughly shaken, she quickly made her way to the break room to gather her belongings and leave. Glancing down at her watch, she quickened her steps, knowing she had little time to catch the last bus home. Stefan wasn't here to give her a ride, she felt her heart twinge in discomfort as she thought about him. If he were here tonight, Tyler would have never done what he had, he was too much of a coward in Stefan's presence.

Entering the break room, she approached her assigned locker. Her hands trembled as they hastily undid the lock. She grabbed her pink coat and shrugged it on, wrapping the belt around her waist. Usually she would take off most of the excessive makeup in the employee bathroom, but she didn't have sufficient time for that now. Grabbing her purse, she practically ran out of the 'employees only' door, racing down the street like a lunatic to reach the bus stop on time.


	3. Chapter 3

Having ended his quick shower, Klaus stepped out of the en-suite bathroom and entered his bedroom with only a towel lazily wrapped around his narrow hips.

He ran a hand through his wet hair causing rivulets of water to run down his toned body, leaving a trail of water droplets behind him on the cold marble floor.

Flickering an insouciance glance to one of the many opulent windows that allowed sunlight to stream into his room, and overlooked his mother’s gardens, he confirmed that the autumn sun was beginning to set.

Blurring over to his closet, he started compiling a mental list of all of the possible locations the cabin could be in. So far, he just knew it was somewhere in the woods that bordered Staunton and Stefan’s assigned city, one of the largest and densest woods in the east coast.

If he found the cabin early enough, he was considering stopping by Stefan’s house and checking in on him. He hadn’t seen him in almost a month now.

 Before he had drained the three lesser vampire witnesses he had compelled them to tell him every last detail of what they remembered seeing, and had asked them specific questions hoping that their words would facilitate, or at least narrow his search, unfortunately, but not surprisingly their assistance had been abysmal.

 The only one that had supplied the most information, which was saying a lot considering his recall was as generic as it could possibly get, was the first witness he had interrogated.

Now knowing that the first dark-haired vampire he had killed during the meeting was the only one that had gotten close enough to harm one of the human hunters, part of him wished he hadn’t disposed of the idiotic vampire so quickly without having had interrogated him.

However, as soon as that thought would infiltrate his mind, a flashback of his rude behavior toward his mother would shimmer in his mind, making him want to kill the insolent vampire all over again, while negating any sort of potential regret.

His mother had assured him that she had interrogated the lesser vampire before he had drained him, but he knew that his mother, a skillful woman in most areas, was not the best when it came to interrogating others. Being able to compel vampires that were not born to darkness was a great asset during interrogations, but only when you knew which questions to ask and how.

Glancing down at his garnet ring, he couldn’t help but wonder why only enforcers were being targeted.

It enraged him to know that his fellow enforcers, elite vampires, were being taken down by feeble humans.

The anger faded as an unusual, yet familiar faint feeling of hunger swept through his body.

His gaze flew over to one of the windows, seeing that, in the distance, the outline of the full moon was starting to deepen.

The fading light of the evening sun was reflecting off of the crystal chandelier above his bed, bathing the walls and dark furnishings of his room in a soft orange glow, making his pale eyes glow eerily.

He had completely forgotten about the full moon.

_Fitting for Halloween,_ Klaus sarcastically thought to himself, having effectively deduced why his temper had overruled his logic during the meeting,

Taking a steady breath, he felt the first true prickling of hunger sharply rise within him.

He had fed well earlier, but the type of hunger slowly churning in his belly was one that he knew he could never satiate, it was the hunger of his inner lycan.

It didn’t please him to know that the hunger pangs were only going to get worse during the night.

The gnawing hunger that always made its presence known during full moons was what he considered to be the only downside of being a hybrid. It didn’t matter how many vampires he drained, the hunger could never be assuaged.

A faraway sound in the gated driveway caught his attention. He focused his hearing, recognizing the chauffer’s voice as he spoke into the intercom, stating his reason for entering.

Looking at the clock in his room, he uttered a curse. He was running late, and if he didn’t hurry, he’d miss his flight.

A few moments later, he had just finished putting on a shirt and was surveying his reflection in the mirror, when he heard someone open the ornate double doors to his bedroom. He had the urge to roll his eyes, as the unmistakable floral scent of his sister’s perfume filled his nostrils.

Klaus had already presumed, from their exchange during the meeting, that she was worried about Stefan, which probably meant she was going to ask him to check in on the enforcer, or maybe she wanted to talk to him about something else. Whichever the case, he was too pressed for time to converse with her. Besides, he had already decided that he was going to visit Stefan while his was in Virginia, not that his sister needed to know that.

“Rebekah,” Klaus greeted her as soon as she closed the doors, “I don’t have time,” he added dismissively, fixing the necklaces he always wore as he strode towards her to make his exit.

Finally looking at her, he froze mid-stride, quirking his eyebrows in question at her appearance.

She was wearing a revealing, fashionable dress that showed off her figure. Her makeup seemed freshly applied and her hair cascaded down her bare shoulders in golden waves.  To him, she looked like she was going to a movie event.

“I’m going with you to help you look for the cabin,” she declared, her face set in determination.

Klaus chuckled softly and proceeded to walk past her.

She followed him outside his room.

“What’s so funny?” she demanded suspiciously, feeling slightly miffed.

Her heels echoed in the hallway as she picked up her pace to keep up with his long strides.

“That you think you’re going with me,” he replied, his gaze momentarily meeting hers, his legs never breaking stride. He left out the part where he visualized her hopelessly searching for a cabin in the middle of the woods, her designer clothing and heels looking tarnished.

His sister not only loved fashion, she loved her clothes, and thanks to Kol’s idiocy he had witnessed firsthand the repercussions of messing with her wardrobe. His lips curved as he thought back to Kol’s panic-stricken expression once he realized what a terrible mistake he had made in ruining her clothes. As sweet as his sister appeared, she had a great capacity for violence.

“I am,” she stated curtly, bringing him back to reality.

Rebekah noticed that her brother briefly seemed amused judging by the glint she saw in his eyes.

“No, you’re not,” he countered calmly.

“Why not?” she challenged, feeling her temper beginning to flare.

“Because you’re supposed to be helping Kol do damage control and you’re a terrible tracker,” Klaus explained to her in a voice of an adult chastising a petulant child.

“Your incompetence would only slow me down,” he added.

The amusement still lingering in his eyes now coupled with his reprimanding words only served to further irritate her.

She opened her mouth to deliver a scathing response to his insults, but closed it when it occurred to her that if she was trying to convince him to take her with him, then angering him was not in her best interest.

With narrowed eyes, which still held a hopeful gleam, she began explaining how she could help him find the cabin in other ways. She even threw in a few compliments in her speech to favorably sway him.

Klaus simply tuned her out as he made his way down the stairs, pulling out his cellphone to read his latest message, while she still kept rambling on.

After a few moments, he finally addressed her.

“And I’m assuming this has nothing to do with Stefan living only a few miles away from those woods?” he interjected, a mocking half-grin forming on his face.

His visual attention solely focused on his phone, Klaus felt rather than saw his sister’s reaction to his words. She stiffened and immediately became quiet.

Their sibling banter faded away, the vibration in the air taking a more somber feel.

Rebekah felt her throat clog with emotion at the mention of Stefan’s name, but she shoved the feeling away. She then swiftly grabbed Klaus’ arm, forcing him to abruptly halt his calculated steps down the grand staircase.

Annoyed Klaus turned to her, searching her face.

She met his gaze evenly, her eyes seeming to plead him, but he remained unaffected, his face a cold mask of detachment.

Lifting a brow at her, he impatiently waited for her to say something.

She swallowed the lump forming in her throat. She was having difficulty finding a way, without admitting that he was right in his assumption, of convincing him to let her accompany him. In the back of her mind, she already knew Klaus wouldn’t want her to go with him, but she was determined to see Stefan. She was going to Virginia, whether he liked it or not.

Surprised to find that his skin was becoming very warm, a lot warmer than it usually was, she broke eye contact and stared down at her hand encircling his muscular arm, trying to decipher why his body was suddenly radiating so much heat. His skin was almost burning her palm.

Raising her gaze to his face again, her eyes widened as she looked out to one of the large windows behind him.

Seeing the full moon starting to glow in the rapidly darkening sky, Rebekah dropped her hand away from his arm, realization dawning on her. Taking a wary step away from her brother as if she were uncomfortable with their proximity, she took a deep breath and collected herself.

 “I need to see him, Nik. I said horrible things that I didn’t mean last time I saw him. I’m worried about him. He won’t answer any of my calls,” she confessed, sounding defeated.  

She did everything in her power not look at him again, knowing he would clearly read the desperation in her face.

He had bunched his free hand into a fist, she noticed, and his knuckles were turning white.

She knew her reaction had bothered him, however she hadn’t known there was a full moon tonight. The sight of it had caught her off guard, but it certainly did explain Klaus’ behavior during the meeting. It hadn’t escaped her notice that he seemed more agitated than usual.

Instantly aware of her change in behavior, Klaus’ spine went rigid at her obvious discomfort, his mouth tightened into a grim line and his eyes hardened, becoming glacial.

He loved striking fear in others, but he never enjoyed frightening his family. It irritated him to know that his sister still didn’t feel safe around him during full moons, even though she already knew he no longer struggled with his instincts. Centuries had passed since those dark times, yet it was apparent that her wariness still persisted.

 Deep down, he knew her reaction was automatic given the natural animosity between vampires and werewolves, but it still bothered him, a lot more than he cared to admit.

His cellphone started ringing, dragging him out of his thoughts.

 “You’re not going,” he replied firmly, and turned to go, he was about to answer his phone when a light pressure on his back made him whirl around, confused.

Startled, he instinctively caught the fist in mid-air, effectively preventing her from making contact.

He blinked. “Did you just try to hit me?” he asked, amused.

“I did hit you, you wanker!” she yelled, her eyes flashing sparks while she glared at him.

_That’s more like it,_ he thought with inner satisfaction. He would choose being his sister’s main source of anger, over being her source of fear on any given day.

“Why?” he questioned, puzzled by her outburst.

“Because you don’t get to tell me what to do. I’m going with you, whether you like it or not,” she stated with finality, her voice clipped.

Klaus fought the urge to groan in frustration as she quickly made her way down the stairs, jerking open the front door with more force than necessary, and closing it with such a slam behind her that the sound echoed in his sensitive ears. He then heard her entering a vehicle and talking to the chauffeur that was waiting on him.

He knew there was no point in trying to deter her now, she was too stubborn and hell-bent on seeing Stefan. Closing his tired eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, he could feel a headache already starting to form.

 He was trying to think of a way to elude her, but his concentration kept getting disrupted by the incessant ringing of his phone.

Releasing the frustrated sigh he was holding in, he answered his phone, and practically growled a greeting to the determined caller.

A familiar voice laughed on the other line, sarcastically asking him why he sounded so cheerful.

Klaus’ eyes snapped open, a plan already forming in his mind as a sly smirk spread across his face.

“Stefan, it’s been a while,” Klaus replied back smoothly.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Ominous, charcoal-tinted clouds gathered overhead, releasing small, spider-like webs of electricity across the sky, a warning of an impending danger. Klaus was extremely annoyed, but managed to keep most of his irritation in check, knowing his emotions were feeding the brewing storm he was unintentionally creating as he carefully moved through the woods, the light rain bouncing off of his broad shoulders, glistening down the length of his body.

He knew the rain wasn't helping him find a scent or clues, but his annoyance was starting to override his logic, and consequently adding momentum to the rain. If he were human, he would have shivered from the cold wind and icy droplets coating his frame, but instead he relished in the small amount of relief the increasing coldness offered his sensitized, heated skin. He lifted his head, staring up at the night sky, allowing the drops of water to splash on his face, cooling his warm skin.

The luminous full moon was still in clear view, even more so now in contrast to the darkness gathering in the skies, a stark and constant reminder of his inhuman existence.

Despite being a hybrid, the full moon still affected him almost much as any full-blooded werewolf. He, too, felt the prickling heat burning beneath his skin, the gnawing hunger for flesh, and his predatory instincts kicking in, making him more aggressive than usual. Except, unlike purebred werewolves, he was strong enough to refrain from fulfilling his lycanthropic cravings.

The biggest asset of Klaus' hybrid strength was exemplified by his ability to easily suppress the overwhelming urge to shift on full moons, even while experiencing the more advantageous side effects of the moon's influence, the ones that enhanced his power.

Werewolves lost many of their human characteristics when they transformed underneath a full moon, but at the same time their strength and speed increased substantially in order to compensate. Klaus was never mortal, nor was he a full werewolf, two things which made the curse of only shifting, unwittingly, during full moons completely inapplicable to him. Instead, he could access his ability to transform whenever he pleased, he could even partially transform without having to complete the transformation.

The only other notable difference between a hybrid and a werewolf, that Klaus and everyone else who was worthy, or in almost all cases unfortunate enough to notice when witnessing his true lycanthropic form, was physicality. His unusual abilities in comparison to that of an average werewolf seemed to manifest themselves in his equally unusual werewolf form. Transformed werewolves could simply pass for being extremely aggressive, large wolves. Their physical characteristics, consisting of claws, paws, fur, and amber or yellow tinted eyes, are certainly not considered improbabilities found among natural wolves. Even their glowing eyes, a distinctive werewolf trait, could be attributed to the tapetum lucidum, a reflective eye layer, found in many nocturnal animals that causes their eyes to glow when light is shone on them.

In fact, during their travels, especially during the commencement of the fur trade, a time when the selling of pelts made a decent profit due to their great demand, Kol and Klaus had come across more than a couple of horrified hunters who had apparently mistaken a "human" for a wolf.

His true form was never once mistaken for a natural wolf in the olden days. No one would have ever mistakenly associated his form with a natural occurring animal. If someone were to do so, the person in question would most likely have been suffering from a mental deficiency or was perhaps visually impaired.

Now that the stereotypical depiction of a werewolf, a bipedal half-beast and half-man creature with clawed hands, had many similarities with his form, he often wondered if he could get away with pretending to be a human wearing a costume during Halloween. It wouldn't take much to trick an inferior human mind. He had never intended to test out his theory, but Kol had convinced him to try it, and had even offered to wear his own vampiric features as a costume.

Had it not been for the human hunters targeting enforcers, he and Kol would be currently testing out their theory. The plan had been to attend a human party, try to blend in, and then display the authenticity of their so called "costumes".

It was a foolproof idea, really.

If the humans suspected they were actual monsters, they would kill them. If the humans didn't suspect anything, they would kill them to show them how stupid and gullible they were. Either way, the humans were destined to die. They had been planning it since May, when Kol had apparently been inspired by a documentary regarding the existence of mythological creatures. Why his younger brother had an affinity for such absurdities was beyond his comprehension, yet he couldn't deny that question had been swirling in his mind for some time now, not to mention that they would both get quite a laugh from seeing the humans finally realize what they really were.

Their faces would probably contort into permanent, horrified expressions after he and his brother were through with them.

Two monsters pretending to be humans, that would have been brilliant, he thought with a ghost of a smile curving his lips.

He suspected that if Elijah and Rebekah were to find out, they would disapprove with frowns plastered on their faces, while his mother would scold them for their propensity toward reckless behavior.

In the past, Klaus had never thought it would be a possibility for him to show his werewolf side to any of his siblings.

He didn't think they would be able to meet his countenance without disgust twisting their faces, not that he would blame them. Even he couldn't stand to look at himself during his first years as a hybrid. As vain as he was, he didn't initially embrace his lycanthropic form. He found it too unsightly, an abomination. However, he eventually learned to tolerate it. Once he began hearing of the sheer terror and myths his werewolf form inspired, he fully embraced his monstrous image.

After all, it did suit him well enough.

Klaus could still recall his first, most excruciating transformation. It had happened right after he had taken his first victim. It was countless centuries ago, but he could still remember the horrified expressions of his family when they saw his skin rupturing, his bones breaking, muscles loudly ripping, and his body encasing itself in fur. Everything after that, except for a single isolated memory, was only a hazy blur of bloodshed and an insatiable, relentless hunger. A constant hunger that never went away for even a second during those three days he was trapped within his own body.

He had caught a glimpse of himself in his transformed state when he came across a lake. It was the memory of that reflection, so unexpected and grotesque, highlighting exactly how unnatural his hybrid existence was, that Klaus found himself playing over and over in his head as he fled from his family's home, perplexed and covered in the blood of his victims.

That was the first and last unwilling transformation he had undergone. Every shift after then had been a choice for him.

His family merely assumed that shortly after he had triggered his werewolf curse, in the process exposing his mother's painful secret and his bastard paternity, he had relocated, kept his distance from them, and only visited for brief hours when absolutely necessary because he didn't want them throwing curious glances at him, privately wondering just how many werewolf traits he had inherited from his biological sire. To a certain degree, they were right, during his early years as a hybrid he didn't like the pensive looks that were occasionally cast his way, especially by his mother, but the truth was much darker. He didn't trust himself around his family in the first few decades of his hybrid existence, knowing his notorious impulse had been emphasized considerably after his lycanthropic awakening.

Klaus didn't have the option of going to the alpha of the pack that sired him, as was customary for newly triggered werewolves, to learn how to tone down his aggressive instincts and sharpened senses. Being an original vampire, he already had very heightened senses, which were only intensified to a painful degree when he became a hybrid.

When he was away from his family, he tried going for months, sometimes years without transforming to test his limits, but he found himself nearly going mad with the deprivation. The need to release his inner lycan was a constant feeling, a haunting hum vibrating through him day and night, bordering on insanity until he gave in. The longer he waited, the more painful the transformation was.

He had to learn how to endure the blinding torture and discomfort for decades, before he had finally managed to teach himself how to control and reduce the pain to a bearable amount. As decades became centuries, the pain associated with his werewolf enhancements faded into nothing.

Halting his measured steps, he pushed the sleeve of his long-sleeved white shirt as much as possible, then extended his right arm in front of him, enjoying the feeling of thick, smooth fur sprouting across the length of his exposed skin, fingers elongating, bones cracking, and hands curling into deadly claws. His werewolf side was howling for release, wanting him to go through with the transformation, but he only gave his clawed hand a single flex before forcing his limb to revert back to its humanoid form.

He smirked, knowing that a full-blooded werewolf trying to do the same would not be able to stop from completely transforming.

The two, closely neighboring cities that were only separated by the woods he was currently in, once had dense werewolf populations, but their inability to control their shifts during full moons, their resemblance to natural wolves, and a certain hybrid with a grudge were some of the main reasons why they were almost killed off to extinction.

Klaus learned, through indirect rumors, that the remaining werewolves now used some sort of herb supplied to them by witches, which helped suppress their transformations. He didn't know the specifics of how the herb was used, he didn't know if it was consumed or perhaps worn, and he truly didn't care to learn of them, but he did know that nothing, with the exception of being a hybrid, could lessen the pain. He pitied the imbeciles that suppressed their transformations, wondering why the devil they would do that, knowing from experience that suppression was never a good idea.

Putting an end to his speculative thoughts, he walked into a more heavily shadowed area of the woods, where large, dense trees blocked out most of the light, drizzling rain. He looked up toward the sky, and saw that the moon was barely visible as it filtered through the long, twisted branches. They looked like skeletal, disfigured limbs trying to perpetually reach the large orb.

He pulled out his phone, cursing at the screen. It was nearly 4:00 AM. He had two missed calls from Kol, and a text message asking him how his search was going.

He forced his body to remain calm, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Eight bloody hours.

For eight hours now he had been searching for the damned cabin the lesser vampires had described to him. There was no way he hadn't found it by now. It just wasn't possible.

When he had originally made it to the woods at 9:00 PM, he had assumed his search would only take him an hour at most. The flight had merely taken about two hours.

He had wanted to get his search over with quickly, hoping to be able to find a party with Kol so that they could test their costume theory, but with each passing second, the probability of that happening was rapidly decreasing.

He sent a text to his impatient younger brother, telling him not to expect him anytime soon.

Klaus briefly wondered if the lesser vampires had lied to him, but he knew they wouldn't have been able to lie to him under his compulsion, and with his lycanthropic ability to detect lies.

As he walked, the hairs on the back of his neck began prickling and an unusual, foreboding feeling settled in his stomach.

Pausing, he looked around, and took a long breath, not detecting anything out of the ordinary.

Continuing on, a small buzzing began in his temples, but he attributed it to his hunger, which had grown exponentially throughout the night, making him aware of every warm-blooded creature pumping blood through its veins within a mile radius.

Earlier his heightened senses had informed him that a group of humans in the distance were spending their Halloween night drinking and partying in the woods, but he hadn't heard them make any noise in a while. Klaus had avoided that small area, not thinking that a random, weather-beaten cabin would make a proper party centerpiece.

He sped over to the area and a triumphant smirk formed on his face. There, right in the middle of the alcohol-littered ground, was the infamous cabin. It matched the exact description he was given.

Well, sort of.

It seemed he had overestimated the underage humans' taste in regards to centerpieces, or maybe he was out of sync with the modern generation of cattle because they had decorated the cabin with orange toilet paper and what he assumed to be cotton webs.

Their atrocious decorative skills aside, he hoped they refrained from venturing inside the cabin. His throbbing head wasn't looking forward to having to sort through the various, disgusting scents associated with the aftermath of intoxicated humans.

He easily sidestepped the remnants of the teenage party, assertively sauntering toward the cabin.

The constant buzzing in his head was rising in level with each step he took, yet Klaus continued to disregard it, knowing he would feed soon enough in Stefan's city.

His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply once again, scanning his surroundings as the sense of danger now turned oppressive. Still, he didn't find anything out of place, but he proceeded with caution, feeling the air around him thicken.

The smirk slid off his face when the buzzing crescendo suddenly spiked, rupturing his eardrums. He clutched at his head, covering his bleeding ears, trying to stop the piercing noise from vibrating through him.

Disorientated from the sound still pulsating through his head, dulling his senses, he didn't hear the modified darts flying toward him.

He felt, in quick succession, two large darts firmly lodge into his chest.

Eyes widening in surprise, he looked down at the crimson droplets of blood starting to pour down his white Henley shirt, staining it.

An immediate surge of pain coursed through his veins.

Wildly, he looked around him trying to find the source of the darts, but the edges of his vision began to viciously blur, skewing his sight.

Grunting, his body swayed uncertainly, one of his hands reaching out for a tree trunk's support, but his depth perception failed him, his mind getting increasingly hazy.

The next wave of crippling pain pumping through his body brought back memories of his first transformation, except this time his body wasn't morphing. No, it was shutting down.

A third dart impaled his torso, pushing him backwards.

In response, his claws extended, fangs sprouted, both sharp and deadly, ready to attack.

Above him, huge bolts of lightning were released. Thunder roared, and the now driving rain soaked the littered vegetation underneath his feet.

He snarled as a new rush of agony burned through his muscles.

The reverberating sound in his mind unexpectedly stopped, allowing his unhealed ears to vaguely pick up on the rustling of moving bodies in the distance.

Humans.

Fury blazed in his brightening eyes, revealing their deadly intention.

Continuous, powerful gusts of wind raised up dying leaves, twigs, and empty beer bottles, making them soar through the air with such force that they seemed like bullets.

The surmounting pain slamming into his unsteady body made his legs buckle. Sinking onto his knees, he tried pulling out his cellphone, but another dart was shot into his arm, the momentum causing his phone to fly out of his hand and a land a distance away from him.

Fighting through the haze, he instinctively knew he had to get away, but his movements were sluggish, much slower than that of a human.

A fifth, and final dart hit him squarely in the forehead.

Dimly, he heard a man yelling, "Bullseye!"

Klaus' vision started fading progressively faster, it went bright white for a moment, and then completely black.

His unconscious body slumped with a loud thud onto the ground.

...

Caroline was sure everyone on the bus was able to hear her taking in short, ragged gulps of breath into her burning lungs as she looked for a seat, but if they did hear her, they didn't seem to care. She was thankful for that.

The majority of people on the bus appeared to be as equally tired as her, the only difference being that they were tired from partying and she was tired from working. Many of the passengers had their costume masks off, and their theatrical makeup smeared.

As she walked past a woman with a scandalous maid outfit, she couldn't help but notice how many similarities her costume had with her own uniform.

She choose a seat in the back, near a window, hoping to avoid socializing with the intoxicated individuals sitting in the front.

Yawning, she peered out of it, enjoying the city lights flashing by her.

Far away, in the woods, she could see dark clouds rolling ominously, lightning sizzling through them, a sharp contrast to the clear sky in the city. It was like something out of a movie.

Involuntarily, she released a small shudder and pitied whomever had to get off on the last stop, the one in the woods. They were inevitably going to get drenched.

The more distance the bus put between her and the club, the more relieved she felt.

She closed her fatigued eyes, reasoning that she was only going to rest them for a moment because there was no way she would be able to fall asleep here, with the strange smells, and loud voices surrounding her.

The noisy, drunken individuals in the front were jovially laughing, reiterating how much fun they had, had.

Ironically, their boisterous voices were oddly soothing to her.

Her exhaustion finally caught up with her as she leaned her head against the window, snuggling into her pink coat.

It wasn't long before she fell asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Klaus was strapped down to a wooden table, angrily spectating his blood oozing out of the multiple wounds covering his body, faintly hearing the rich liquid dripping onto the floor. Debilitated as he was, there was nothing to distract him from the maddening noise of it pooling into an ever-increasing puddle beneath him, except for the echo of the buzzing still ricocheting in his mind and the endless questions being spat at him by the cowardly humans around him.

He always answered them the same way, his facial muscles contorting into something reminiscent of a mocking smile, while his unblinking eyes defiantly refused to lower in cowardice. He wasn't afraid of them. They might feel powerful now, but he would have vengeance.

Fresh waves of revulsion and rage swept through him as he finished inspecting the deep cuts and gashes adorning the entirety of his body, the knives protruding from his chest and abdomen, so deeply embedded into his flesh that only the handles were visible.

His shirt, once white, was now a deep red, shredded and completely drenched.

Klaus almost winced when a jolt of pain poured through him as one of the humans began to systematically cut off the fingers on his right hand, but he quickly suppressed the urge, refusing to outwardly acknowledge the burning pain throbbing in his hand.

Typically, the wounds littering his body, even the deepest ones, would heal within a matter of seconds, feeling vaguely similar to a bothersome tickle, however, every single slice inflicted on his body within the last hour felt about a hundred times worse than it regularly would.

In complete contrast to his body's amplified sensitivity, his hearing, vision, and sense of smell had been reduced to a human-like capability.

Despite this, Klaus was determined not to shatter the illusion of him being impervious to pain. They could cut off all of his extremities, destroy all of his faculties, and he still wouldn't give them anything.

His capture had wounded his pride far enough already, he wasn't planning on adding insult to injury by showing further vulnerability.

Not only had they taken him down, they had actually rendered him unconscious long enough to drag his body into the filthy cabin, a fact that still made his blood boil.

Superficially he appeared calm and unaffected like he always did before a hunt, but deep inside, he coiled, readying himself for any opportunity to attack.

It infuriated him that he couldn't find a solution to his current predicament. Up until now, he always had a plan or found a way to get himself out the toughest situations.

He couldn't even remember the last time someone had made him bled or caused him enough pain that he was bothered by it.

Initially he been amused at how eager the mortal butchers seemed wielding their knives, arrogantly assuming that the harmful effects of the poison would quickly fade away, giving him a chance to give them an in-depth lesson on how to conduct a proper torture session, but to his shock the effects persisted for much longer than he had originally anticipated.

Now he was realizing how much he had underestimated the enemy, and for the first time in his long existence, he found himself facing the humiliating threat of desiccation.

With that jarring revelation, shame registered in his mind combined with pinpricks of concern at how truly weak and helpless he was at the moment, but his anger, peaking to a new height, overrode all of those foreign emotions.

He pulled his gaze away from his body and began to assess the disgusting humans surrounding him.

Oh, how he loathed those blood smeared faces hovering above him, their mouths constantly taunting, questioning him. He always ignored them, not willing to give them the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of him, and he would continue to do so because no amount of crippling pain, regardless of how copious it was, would make him break.

How was any of this even possible?

He simply could not understand the absurdity of the situation. It was inconceivable, that he, an immortal, not just any immortal, but an Original with immense power and skill had been captured and reduced to such a pitiful state by three, weak mortals.

It was degrading to know that all it took to bring him down had been a few poison-filled few darts and a portable electronic device.

The poison, he learnt, was very potent, excruciating and quick-acting. It rendered the majority of his body, except his face, completely motionless while leaving his pain receptors fully functional.

It was like nothing he had ever come across before.

As an immortal with a penchant for boredom, Klaus had filled his life, from antiquity, with knowledge, gathering skills, both mental and physical. The skills he acquired made him one of the most successful killers in the supernatural community. He fought in many ancient wars, witnessing firsthand throughout the centuries, the evolution of weapons.

He acquainted himself with these weapons, some which were poison-tipped. In fact, he knew all of the poisonous roots and animals that were originally used by early humans in warfare. There were even times when he intentionally injected or otherwise consumed "deadly" chemical substances simply to test his limits, yet the only effect he usually felt during his experimentations was annoyance. Never once did a chemical make him feel anything vaguely similar to what was presently coursing through his veins.

Klaus had found, after some time, that he could regain partial mobility of his body because most of the poison-contaminated blood was being drained from him. Unfortunately, the few blood cells that his weakened body managed to heal were also being drained along with the contaminated ones.

The only hope for an escape he had was to wait in complete stillness until he felt that he could move his body as a whole, instead of small sections at a time, considering that every time he showed even the slightest hint of a movement, his tormentors would spring away from the table, retrieve their poison-tipped knives, and threaten to stab his lethargic body if he didn't desist.

They weren't anywhere near as painful as the darts, yet it was enough to further halt his mobility progress.

All he needed was a few minutes of recovery to gather enough strength to get off the table and strike, but they never went more than a couple seconds without adding fresh wounds.

He wished he had taken Rebekah with him. There was no doubt in his mind she would have most likely sneaked off to Stefan's home, but he knew she would've eventually returned.

That specific thought made him inwardly cringe, and almost scoff in derision. Was he really getting so desperate that he was beginning to envision possible scenarios in which his sister played the role of a hypothetical heroine?

Setting aside that disturbing notion, he started mulling over the possible ramifications of his body desiccating.

He highly doubted the butchers would leave his body out in the open. They would probably bury or take his body to a remote location, and if that were to happen, who knew how long it would take before his withered body was found.

His eyes slowly made a circuit around the room, his gaze eventually landing on the only window in the cabin. He had the uncontrollable urge to laugh as he took notice of the pouring rain violently pelting the glass, the trees in his unobstructed line of vision were groaning in protest as the wind viciously whipped at them. The storm he had been fueling earlier had finally reached a boiling point and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to control it.

Against his will, a rumble of laughter erupted from his chapped lips.

He couldn't help it.

If he really thought about it, he had created the perfect setting for these feeble humans to dispose of him without any interruption. He had made sure his sister was taken off his back by Stefan, he had told Kol not to expect him anytime soon, and he had ensured that no wandering humans would venture into the woods.

His maniacal laughter and the sardonic thoughts racing through his mind came to a sudden halt as he finally took notice of the lack of pain in his body.

He had been in horrific agony for so long now from the poison having reached every centimeter of his body, that he found it difficult to believe that the pain was now tolerable. In addition to that, his vision started to sharpen and his hearing range increased drastically, it almost felt as if someone had removed a pair of plugs from his ears and a veil from his eyes.

Looking over to the counter in which they had their instruments of torture laid out on, he realized they had already plunged the last poison-tipped knife into his flesh about 10 minutes ago.

_It's wearing off_.

As soon as that thought registered, his eyesight became vividly clear, his hearing impeccable, and his superior sense of smell finally returned.

Klaus automatically felt more optimistic, but it was short-lived as he took a deep breath into his lungs.

He cursed his luck as the stench hit his nose, revealing that the three men had poison- contaminated blood ebbing in their veins.

They reeked of it.

The poison wearing off wouldn't make a drastic change to his dire condition if he didn't readily have access to sustenance.

In his current state, he knew he wouldn't get very far without collapsing and desiccating somewhere inconvenient. There was no way around it, he needed blood. Fast.

If he drained the men, his body wouldn't heal, not to mention that he would genuinely prefer being set on fire than intentionally consuming that vile concoction.

Klaus had a brief flashback of his late brother, Finn, writhing in pain with an almost feral edge after he had taken the cure. At the time he genuinely thought his brother was overreacting or had a low pain threshold, but assuming that what he had been poisoned with was the corrupted cure, he now knew better.

Ridding himself of the sudden memory, he began inspecting the leather straps holding him down, easily dismissing them and their minimal resistance.

The main worry he hand were the handles protruding from his abdomen and stomach. He didn't know if the long knives that he had been skewered with had connected with the wooden table underneath him.

He figured they would be the biggest challenge, already knowing that his regenerative abilities allowed his body to partially heal around the knives. There was no doubt in his mind he would have to tear through his freshly healed tissue and blood vessels in order to remove the offending knives.

That right there was going to weaken him even more. He really, really needed blood. At this point, he would make an exception and drink from a mortal. Any mortal. Hell, maybe even an animal.

One of his tormentors, the only one with shaggy hair, dragged him out of his thoughts and asked, "What in God's name are you?"

Klaus silently looked at him with pure, unadulterated hatred. His cold, unblinking eyes promising a gruesome retribution.

When he freed himself from their clutches he was going to make sure to keep them alive long enough to make the injuries he was sustaining seem trivial in comparison.

He smirked at how visibly rattled the pathetic human became by his glare, the bloody screwdriver in his hand shaking along with his body. It gave him a sense of accomplishment to see how uneasy they were becoming with his silence.

**. . .**

Benjamin Morgan quickly looked away, regretting making eye contact with the man, or thing on the table. Try as he might he couldn't stop his body from shivering. There was something dark and menacing in those predatory eyes that made him very uneasy. He had no idea why the enforcer was not reacting to anything they were doing to him.

His hands were starting to get sore, but the vampire still hadn't said a word, and his eerie eyes never once blinked. Instead of yelling out in pain or begging, the only response they had somehow managed to elicit from him was a sinister laugh.

In the beginning he had serious doubts about the blond man being a vampire, even though, as previously pointed out by his comrades, he was wearing a garnet ring.

Caleb and Daniel had assured him it was just another enforcer, another demon they needed to cleanse the world of, and he had believed them, but now he wasn't so convinced. This thing wasn't like the rest that they had destroyed before.

He was different.

The only thing he knew for certain was that it wasn't human, because no human would be able to withstand the amount of wounds he had.

It had taken Caleb five darts to take down the man, when all of the others had only required a single dart, and it generally took a few hours for them to regain consciousness but this one had done so in only 5 minutes. They had barely dragged him into the cabin and laid him on the table when his blue-grey eyes had flown open.

Not to mention that the advanced digital device they always carried had to be put on full volume to disorient him, which caused the delicate device to burn out. It was something that they had never had to do before. Never once had an enforcer required so much effort to be taken down.

Most surprisingly of all, the darts didn't make him human.

That had never happened with any of the previous vampires they had killed.

It usually took hours before they started to get slight twitches, but this one had actually started to move enough to worry him and his companions.

Luckily they had poison-tipped knives they pierced him with to keep him under control.

Ever since then, he hadn't moved, but Ben still felt uneasy and the raging storm outside wasn't helping, either.

He was starting to get nervous thinking about how much trouble he was going to get in once they returned to their headquarters for breaking the multitasking device, already knowing he was on his boss' bad side for having left the weapons behind in the cabin yesterday.

It wasn't like he did it intentionally, though.

And the more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that it was God's plan that he had forgotten to carry the weapons to the vehicle. He had wanted them to return to the cabin to find this man and liberate his soul. God just knew they would need them to interrogate him and get information.

That's what he enjoyed the most about his job as a hunter, he got to save souls.

What he didn't really care for was the interrogation process. The ritual made sense to him because it allowed God to see that even though their bodies were corrupted beyond salivation, their souls were still salvageable.

He really hoped the enforcer would give them information soon so that they could finally proceed with the ritual to restore the man's soul and give him a fair opportunity to enter the gates of heaven, while leaving his demonic body behind.

Maybe he would give them enough information to get him back on good terms with his boss.

He brushed his fingers across the rosary around his neck. Since they hadn't brought any rosaries along for the ritual, not expecting to find an enforcer, he would have to give the man his own.

Glancing over at Daniel, his eyes widened at the scene unfolding before him. He had been so lost in his thoughts and the blond man's silence didn't alert him of the fact that Daniel had cut off the fingers on his right hand and was now reaching for the man's left hand to presumably do the same to that hand.

He grabbed Daniel's hand, halting his movements.

"You can't do that, it's not part of the ritual," Ben chastised, "he needs his fingers to clasp the rosary so that God can know he wants to be forgiven."

Daniel snatched his hand away and looked over at the shaggy-haired man. He wasn't very fond of the guy, especially considering how many times he mentioned God in a day.

In his book, Ben was insane, a religious zealot through and through. He was another one of those drones he had to put up to get paid for what he did.

Usually Ben wouldn't do anything to annoy him, but it was his fault they were out here to begin with, and if their boss found out they couldn't get any information from an enforcer, he was sure there would be hell to pay, which is why he didn't plan on going through with the so called "cleansing ritual".

Instead he had told Caleb that they should dismember the vampire and bury him somewhere. Caleb had agreed. When he had asked Ben for his opinion, he hadn't answered so he had just assumed he was on board. Apparently he had been wrong, which wasn't very surprising. Unlike Caleb, Ben rarely agreed with him.

"Are you fuckin' stupid, Ben? There ain't no God," Daniel angrily snapped, going around the table to stand directly in front of Ben in a challenging manner.

Ben's eyes narrowed. "Yes, there is, and this enforcer will only be forgiven if we do the ritual correctly!" he retorted, irritated.

Daniel glared at Ben, and Caleb released a sigh of annoyance, already knowing what was going to happen.

He stepped back to give them room, not wanting to get involved in what he was sure was going to turn out be another one of their many petty diatribes.

As predicted a heated argument broke out between the two, but it was quickly interrupted by Caleb's blood-curdling scream.

They looked over only in time to see the blond man throw Caleb's limp, headless body up into the ceiling lighting. The cabin was soon blanketed in darkness, and the screams emanating from it were drowned out by the rumbling sound of thunder and the driving rain.

**. . .**

Klaus swayed as he stood. With a grunt, he removed the last remaining knife from his abdomen causing blood to sputter like a geyser. A long minute went by before he recovered enough to make his way, on unsteady feet, toward the door, carefully avoiding stepping over the body parts scattered on the floor, and the large pools of blood that could make him lose his footing. Each measured movement causing him discomfort.

Even though he they had drained most of his blood and strength, he was determined to capture his prey. This was the only chance he had to avoid desiccation and he was going to take it. She was getting closer now, the sound of her rapid heartbeat was calling to him.

He could tell she was scared and that made his incisors lengthen in anticipation. His eyes gleamed as darkened veins began appearing underneath them.

There was nothing quite like adrenaline-laced blood. At the moment he didn't even care that she was human, he just wanted to sink his fangs into her.

The waves of hunger beating at him were driving him mad, every cell in his body demanded sustenance.

He had heard her footsteps right before the idiotic humans began arguing. For a moment he thought he had imagined it, but then he had smelt the undeniable scent of blood in the air.

Klaus kicked opened the cabin door, and inhaled deeply, taking the lingering scent of her blood into his lungs, memorizing it.

He stretched out his stiff muscles, preparing himself for the hunt.

**. . .**

Caroline awoke to the feeling of someone tapping her on the shoulder, groggily she opened her eyes to see the bus driver impatiently waiting for her to wake up.

"It's the last one," cryptically replied the elderly woman in an unfriendly tone.

"The last what?" questioned a confused Caroline, tiredly rubbing her eyes, having forgotten that she was still wearing eye makeup. It made her eyes sting.

The woman made her way back to her seat and opened the door of the bus.

"It's the last stop," she announced while pointedly tapping her foot on the floor.

Coming to her senses Caroline bolted out of the seat, finally noticing that she was the only passenger on the bus. She peered out the window, but the heavy cloak of white fog made it impossible to distinguish anything.

"The one in the woods?" she asked in a small voice, hoping it wasn't so. As an expert commuter, she knew that if this was the stop in the woods, it was the last stop the bus made before making its way into Staunton to prepare for the early morning route schedule over there.

The bus driver looked at her through the rear-view mirror, her eyes softening slightly as she nodded.

Caroline felt her chest tighten uncomfortably as driving rain began to viciously hit the windshield and roof of the bus. The wind howled ominously, giving her goosebumps.

This day was quickly turning into one the worst Halloweens she had ever had.

She knew she didn't have enough money to take a cab from Staunton to her apartment. She needed every cent in her purse to be able to buy groceries for the week and to pay the monthly rent.

She was going to have to walk.

Giving a defeated sigh, she grabbed her purse and walked towards the exit, looking a lot calmer than she actually felt.

Hugging her arms around herself she stepped out into the rain.

The doors of the bus slammed shut behind her. Rain immediately rushed over her body, soaking her.

Quickly, she made her way to the trees to take cover, shivering as the cold wind licked at her, the unexpected momentum knocking her a bit off balance.

She grabbed onto a tree trunk for support and looked around, trying not to lose sight of the road, but it was too late. The fog was so thick and oppressive she couldn't even see her own feet.

A few minutes passed before the silver curtains of rain faded into a light drizzle. Unfortunately the fog still hadn't lessened.

A prickle of alarm ran through the hairs at the back of her neck as she took notice of the full moon, and every single horror movie she had ever seen came rushing back to her.

Caroline told herself to relax, but as lighting flashed and thunder rumbled, her heart rate began to rapidly spike along with her paranoia.

_They're just movies. Not real. Completely fake._

After talking herself out of an anxiety attack, she had an idea and dug into her purse, pulling out her phone, planning on using it as a light.

She grabbed the phone and released an unladylike curse.

It was dead.

She began retracing her steps, and she was beginning to think she was on the right path when she tripped over a fallen log. The pain the swept through her leg made her emerald eyes water.

Gingerly she touched the wound, feeling the stickiness of blood. She released a frustrated groan. That's exactly what she needed, a bleeding wound to not only attract predators, but to also slow her down.

She collected herself after a moment and continued on walking, now with a limp.

About ten minutes later her leg was starting to ache from aimlessly walking on the uneven ground.

The helpful light of the moon was suddenly snuffed out, almost as if a shadow had fallen over it.

Caroline raised her face toward the sky, intrigued by the oddly shaped branches swaying in the wind.

The moon was hardly visible because of them, and she found that it was a strangely mesmerizing sight.

A whip of lighting, followed by a roar of thunder brought her out of her reverie.

The rain began to downpour once again.

She continued walking until off in the distance she could see something glowing, curious, she quickened her pace.

_A Cabin._

She couldn't believe she had found a cabin that seemed to be inhabited by people. Maybe they had a phone she could use.

Weirdly enough, as soon as she spotted the light it was turned off. She didn't let that deter her, though. Someone had to be in that cabin to have turned off the light.

The relief circulating throughout her body quickly turned to gut-wrenching fear when a flash of lighting cracked across the clouds, for a small moment lighting up the cabin and the outline of a tall, bloodied man staring in her direction.

She gasped, her eyes widening, and turned around to run in the opposite direction.

Caroline didn't get very far when she felt someone harshly push her up against a tree, knocking the wind out of her.

A large hand wrapped around her delicate throat with bruising force.

"Stay still, human," threatened a voice with an English accent.


	6. Chapter 6

The force of the sudden impact was so strong that Caroline shut her eyes from the sharp pain blossoming in her back. For a few seconds, small, pinpoint flashes of color swirled across the darkness of her closed lids. She wanted to scream, but the hand encircling her neck tightened, cutting off her oxygen.

She wildly clawed, and tugged at the hand, desperately trying to loosen the hold, but her efforts were futile, his grip was unbreakable.

"Stay still, human," threatened a voice with an English accent. The long fingers painfully digging into her skin, dug even deeper for emphasis, threatening to crush her throat if she continued struggling.

His low, menacing voice prickled the fine hairs on the back of her neck, stilling her heart in terror.

Her body was then abruptly wrenched off the floor with incredible ease, leaving her feet dangling in midair like a rag doll.

The immense, frightening power in that one hand was like nothing she had ever felt before, not even Tyler's strength could compare to it.

In the back of her panic-stricken mind, she knew he could kill her with little to no effort on his part.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, with dread filling her, she opened her eyes and caught a brief glimpse of yellow before her she felt something brutally tear into her exposed neck. The pain was so excruciating, it brought tears to her eyes.

Horror quickly rose once she realized he had bitten her.

Despite his earlier warning, she renewed her struggling with vigor, her fear giving her a new surge of adrenaline, her limbs violently flailing, trying connect with some part of him.

She felt her legs make contact with his body, but he remained unaffected, almost as if he were impermeable to pain.

As he ravenously fed, Caroline wheezed, her vision blurred, black dots dancing in her eyes. Against her will, her arms and legs slowly started to go limp, feeling like lead weights.

. . .

Completely oblivious of Caroline's frantic resistance, Klaus greedily took great gulps of warm blood into his mouth, feeding his withered organs, his regenerating cells quickly absorbing the liquid to fight off the last remnants of the poison infiltrating his bloodstream.

The acrid taste was something he was unaccustomed to, vampire blood being far more nourishing, and rich in flavor.

He had fed on humans far too long ago to accurately remember how their blood tasted, but could still recall enough to know that her blood was comparatively bitter than most. Processing that information, he merely attributed the minor flavor discrepancy to the overwhelming stench of alcohol permeating his flared nostrils.

Now he understood why most of the ancient human-feeding vampires he knew, occasionally condemned the synthetic chemicals and pollutants that modern humans were inevitably exposed to, often reminiscing about the good old days when humans were pure, lived organically, and were overall much more tastier.

A ripple of amusement coursed through his body. He abstained from feeding on intoxicated vampires, not enjoying the unbalanced flavor alcohol created, and he never entertained the idea of drinking from a mortal, at least not since the Bronze Age.

He preferred to dine on powerful vampires, especially during full moons, their blood usually took the edge off of his voracious appetite, and yet here he was, drinking from a heavily intoxicated, insubstantial human girl.

The irony, he thought, realizing how his meager meal highlighted the severity his previous predicament.

His amusement quickly faded, morphing into concern. The fact that a couple of lowly human hunters had managed to weaken him, possibly the strongest creature alive, to such a pitiful state still didn't sit well with him.

If they could take him down, they could take anybody down, including his family.

How was he supposed to protect his family when he, the Mikaelson's strongest weapon, was also susceptible to their poison?

What he found to be the most disturbing aspect of his encounter with them, was that one of the butchers had referred to him as an 'enforcer'. A term only known, and used by supernatural creatures.

How much did they really know about his species? And more importantly, how did they acquire that information?

Not so lowly after all, came a nagging voice in his head.

He should have kept at least one of them alive to interrogate, but his temper had gotten the best of him.

For a moment he thought he felt a shred of regret for acting on impulse, but then a sadistic glint shone in his eyes, joy creeping into his chest, as the humans' final grisly screams, and blood-choked gurgles began replaying in his head like a melodious tune.

After a few moments, Klaus finally heard the girl's heart, and lungs laboring for oxygen as he feasted on her. He had every intention of draining her, to use every last drop to replenish as much of his lost strength as he could, but something glinting in the moonlight, beneath her suspended legs, caught his attention.

With great willpower, he lifted his head from her throat, blood trickling down the sides of his mouth.

Hunger still roared in his head, churning in his body, demanding more sustenance, but he suppressed it.

Uttering an oath, he abruptly relinquished her from his grasp.

His features twisting into a scowl, a deep angry growl emerged from his crimson-stained lips as he retrieved the bracelet strewn amongst a few items littering the floor, easily recognizing the engravings on the charms hanging off of it.

Tension, and inner turmoil hardened his stance as his mind raced, his uninjured hand itching to crush the thick, platinum bracelet.

Out of all the humans in the world…

The baser side of him wanted to proceed with draining the human, the need to kill his prey, to nourish his depleted body, was overwhelming him. However, looking at the bracelet, he knew his twisted code of honor would not allow him to go through with it.

Enforcers sometimes, although rarely, took humans under their protection, using them as personal blood bags, and pets. In order to avoid their most treasured pets from potentially becoming another vampire's next meal, enforcers would give them particular pieces of engraved jewelry to publicly signify their worth to supernatural beings, and to dissuade attacks. If an enforcer, lesser vampire, or any supernatural creature were to feed off such a human, the act was punishable by death.

He, along with the witches, was not a fan of the law. Since the law passed, he only had to indirectly deal with a few prolific human owners, something he was thankful for.

To him, human sympathizers were repugnant.

A vast majority of the witches were notoriously opposed to the law due to its heavy justification of cruelty, Klaus, on the other hand, was as equally opposed to it, but his reasoning was completely different, and less humane.

It didn't make sense to him why his fellow comrades would willingly sully themselves with such an inferior species. In most recent years, he noticed that the trend of human pets was on the rise, even though the law had been established since the 15th century.

Maybe their increasing popularity was a side effect of the human overpopulation, or maybe enforcers were going soft. He wasn't too inclined to agree with the latter explanation.

It baffled him why someone would keep their source of nourishment as a pet. To his knowledge, no species, aside from his own, kept their food around as pets. He had yet to see a mortal putting a leash on a hamburger.

His sharp gaze darted over to the human girl, studying her, weighing his options.

He knew that if he truly wanted to, he could drain the her without any fatalistic repercussions, which he was tempted to do merely to show the enforcer that had claimed her that these types of liaisons were unnatural, but he felt more obligated to adhere to his code, than to teach an empathetic enforcer, with a weakness for humans, a lesson.

Looking down at the bracelet he was turning over in his hand, his eyes narrowed. It was clearly broken, and misshapen. When he attacked her, he hadn't ripped it off of her body. The damage to the bracelet was indicative of manual force, as if someone had crushed it in between their hands, someone strong.

If she was someone's pet, then why wasn't she wearing the bracelet to begin with?

And what was she doing, alone, in the middle of the woods?

The more he thought about it, the more doubts filled his mind.

It was possible that she wasn't a pet, maybe she just found the bracelet.

Perhaps she was abandoned by her owner, and was now just another blood bag, fair game for anybody.

On some level, Klaus knew his theories were unlikely, but the shimmer of hope and excitement reeling through him was impossible to ignore.

Maybe he was going to be able to finish his meal after all, without compromising his personal code of honor.

He dispassionately watched as she tried to move, and released a mocking chuckle at her feeble attempt.

. . .

Caroline's weakened body slumped against the tree trunk, horribly coughing and wheezing, her burning lungs desperately gulping for air. She pressed a shaky hand into the ragged wound on her neck, trying to stem the blood, which was freely flowing down her pink coat.

Her eyelids felt heavy, and began fluttering downwards, but she forced them open, scanning the area around her.

Early, twilight rays had just begun to clear away the gloomy, grey fog, the rays penetrating the deep shadows of the blanketing trees, allowing her red-rimmed eyes to make out a shadowed silhouette of a tall man. He was completely covered in blood, his pants and shirt, from what she could see, were ripped and tattered.

Compressing her dry, chapped lips into tight line, she choked down the scream threatening to rip out of her damaged throat, knowing that nothing good could come out of regaining his attention.

His back was turned to her, he seemed to be occupied, inspecting something that she couldn't quite see in his hand.

Frantically looking for her purse, she discovered her belongings scattered across the rain-soaked vegetation.

Taking advantage of his distraction, she used her free hand to reach the pepper spray she always carried in her purse in case of emergencies.

Unfortunately, the world around her started to viciously whirl, and the simple movement caused pain to shoot up her back.

Ignoring the pain, she blinked to clear her vision, and continued to reach for it. Her fingers only a few inches away from grabbing it.

Too exhausted and dizzy, with her arm throbbing, she paused to catch her breath.

A malicious laugh erupted from her attacker, making her heart skip a beat.

In that moment, images of her grandmother and Stefan invaded her mind, fueling her resolve, lending her enough strength to reach the pepper spray.

Without warning, she felt herself being jerked to her feet, a band of iron gripping her bruised upper arm, keeping her from falling.

Faintly, as if very far away, she heard the chilling, accented voice ask her something.

Drowsily, she raised her head and found herself looking up into a pair of inhuman glowing yellow eyes, and a set of lengthened fangs, stained with her own blood.


	7. Chapter 7

His face was mostly hidden, the tree branches above them cloaking his features into indiscernible shadows. Caroline could only make out two things that starkly stood out against the darkness shielding his visage. A pair of glistening fangs smeared with what she knew to be her own blood, and a pair of glowing eyes. It was the eyes, not the canines that made an involuntary, icy shiver run down her aching back.

 _Not human_ , her instincts screamed.

Those eyes belonged to a predator, to something otherworldly. Continuing to stare into his eyes, she saw her own shocked face reflected in them.

His unblinking gaze then languidly slid over her features, almost as if assessing her, before rapidly narrowing into slits.

. . .

Klaus was annoyed. He had asked the human a question, and when he asked a question, he expected an answer. Only, he didn't get an answer. Instead, she continued to openly stare at him. Her expression made him wonder if she was dim-witted, but as the familiar smell of fear began pouring off of her, overwhelming all of the other scents lingering on her, a smirk formed on his face.

He inhaled deeply, his smirk widening even further, enjoying the aroma.

There was a part of him that longed to rip into her throat again, to feed, and finish the kill. Chasing after her when he was near desiccating had activated every predatory instinct within him, and the fear radiating off of her was making it hard for him to ignore the violent urge.

She was prey and everything about her beckoned him, from her palpable fear to the fading rhythm of her heart. Centuries of practiced control were slipping away with every ragged breath she took.

He could still taste her in his mouth. Her blood was far from appetizing, lacking both texture and flavor, yet he found that he was barely able to restrain himself from attacking her to completely drain her.

His stomach rejoiced with the idea of killing her, saliva coating his tongue, the eagerness of his body only making him that much aware of how close he was to compromising his honor.

In spite of the impulse that demanded her death, and the rising, insistent hunger still clawing at him, he retracted his fangs knowing that before he could feed on her again he needed to know she didn't belong to someone else.

Looking away from the temptation that the spilt blood oozing at the hollow of her neck combined with the slow and irregular pulse presented him with, he sighed and took a steadying breath, willing away the need thrumming through him.

He turned his attention back to her to try question her again when a foul, unpleasant odor wafted around him.

. . .

Caroline was struggling to keep her eyes open, and for a moment she closed them. Too tired to fight, she accepted her fate, and hoped that she was merely caught in deep layer of slumber, in a nightmare that she would soon awaken from.

There was no other explanation that her confused mind could come up with for the events that had transpired in the last couple of minutes. It couldn't be real. She had to be dreaming.

 _Wake up,_  she begged.

She was relatively open-minded, and had a strong belief that some paranormal occurrences were real, but there was no way any of this was.

Tightening the grip of the canister in her trembling hand, it felt just as cold and solid as the day she bought it.

Every muscle ached, her head was pounding, and every exhalation caused her wounded neck to throb.

She closed her eyes even tighter as a sudden warmth started to flood her body, hoping that everything would fade along with her sight, and that she would wake up.

The warmth tingling along her skin made her groan in distress as it seemed to magnify the pain of the smallest scrape she had, to the tear at her neck.

Caroline abruptly opened her eyes, knowing she wasn't dreaming.

Realization struck her then, hard and unforgiving.

She was dying.

Through the blur of her watering eyes she saw him still standing in front of her, caging her body with his.

She realized that he was no longer studying her with those glowing eyes of his. He wasn't even looking at her.

Unfortunately he still had her arm in his grip. If it weren't for his grip, she knew she wouldn't be able to stand as weak as she was, but that didn't matter to her. She wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

 _I'm not going to die here,_ she told herself, repeating the words over and over in her head.

She had no idea how, but she had every intention of getting out of the woods alive.

It was the extensive amount of blood loss that made Caroline believe she could walk away with her life, her mind no longer being able to fully comprehend how unrealistic her goal was, despite her determination.

Summoning all of her remaining strength, she quickly bent her free arm up to release the spray as she saw him turning his head in her direction.

She had only managed to spray a pathetic amount before the canister was knocked out of her hand so fast that if she hadn't heard it hit against a nearby tree, she would have simply thought it had magically disappeared from her grasp or had never been in her possession to begin with.

Before she could even blink, a low, threatening growl erupted from her attacker.

If possible, her face paled even further watching his lips draw back into a snarl, pointedly flashing his fangs at her.

The pepper spray had been ineffectual in hindering him, but extremely effective in incensing him.

His eyes were blazing with fury, burning into her terrified ones, his features twisting with rage.

The intensity of his glare took her breath away.

He then blinked, and it struck her as odd, it seemed somehow wrong on his face.

It was almost like watching a snake blink, wholly unnatural and unexpected.

That's when she realized he had not blinked even once before until now.

Suddenly, above him, whips of lightning violently exploded, the deafening sound of thunder powerfully echoing through the forest. Dark shadows creeped overhead as ominous clouds rapidly filled the sky. The rain became so heavy it easily bypassed the canopy of trees, drenching everything it touched.

She gasped in alarm at the abrupt change in scenery, it was almost like someone had turned on a switch.

. . .

The spectacle and shift in weather only lasted a few moments while Klaus forced his body to relax, fighting through the red haze of bloodlust threatening to overpower his judgement, feeling his inner beast rising to the surface, both vengeful and deadly.

He already had enough difficulty not giving in to the demands of his hungry body, every part of it aching for sustenance. He certainly didn't need her provoking him into shattering the fragile hold of restraint he had on his murderous impulse.

He clenched his jaw, blinking away the haze as the offending chemical saturated the space between them, sullying the air. He inwardly cursed his heightened sense of smell.

It had gotten into his eyes, but his eyes weren't anywhere near as sensitive as his nose.

He bent closer to her, inspecting her. She had smears of color decorating her face, streaks of black running from her eyes all the way down to her chin. Her features were unimpressive. She was as pale as ghost, the blood she had lost gave her skin a greyish cast. She still reeked of alcohol, smoke, and sweat. The chemical she had sprayed had done little to hide the pungent smells.

Golden eyes finished roaming her face, he found she wasn't unattractive, but there was nothing remarkable about her, either. At least not that he could see. Perhaps her talent was not physically visible or maybe it wasn't about how her body looked, but how it was used. Which begged the question, who did she belong to?

And why was she kept around?

He wanted answers.

His gaze lingered on the crimson streak beginning at her neck and flowing into the confines of her coat. It wouldn't be long now before she bled out or succumbed to shock.

Klaus regarded her pallid face knowing she was losing too much blood, blood that he needed.

He had to compel her before he decided on a course of action.

A hoarse, frightened sound escaped her as his pupils dilated.

"You will tell me the truth," he decreed, anger coating every clipped word.

She merely looked at him with wide eyes. Klaus took her silence as a sign of compliance and began questioning her.

"Is this yours?" he asked, showing her the bracelet.

Caroline visibly recoiled as he held her bracelet with his mutilated, right hand for her to view.

The majority of his fingers were missing, bloody stumps occupying their place.

"Yes," she automatically answered, shuddering as he seemed to get even angrier with her reply.

That was not the answer Klaus had wanted to hear. He knew it was the truth, sensing no dishonesty in her voice.

"What are you doing out here, alone?" he pressed, still keeping her gaze captive.

Impatience flickered in his eyes when she didn't readily reply.

Caroline didn't know whether to answer him or not, her answers only seemed to anger him, but her clouded, pain-filled mind made the risky decision of answering him yet again.

"I missed my bus stop," she responded, swallowing nervously.

She noticed he followed every muscle of her throat working, and quickly desisted.

Klaus was losing hope of her being a discarded pet, a sinking feeling of disappointment swirling in his chest.

"Who is your master?" he asked.

She gave him an incredulous look, staring at him with her mouth slightly ajar.

 _Master?_ The question shimmered in her mind. It took her a couple of seconds to fully digest.

A surge of indignation rushed over her, intertwining with the fear and confusion registering in her addled mind. She had no idea of what he was talking about, but the very idea of having a master was insulting.

Klaus revisited the possibility of her being simple as she stared at him with her mouth agape. Humans were stupid, but this one seemed to be more intellectually disabled than most.

He watched a series of emotions cross her face, struggling to formulate a response, keeping his face stoic. All the while anticipating her answer, knowing it would be the determining factor on whether he could drain her or not.

For a moment there was a hint of anger in her gaze, but it morphed into bewilderment.

"What?" she finally managed to say, confusion lacing her voice.

 _Definitely simple,_ he decided, confirming his earlier suspicion of her limited mental capability.

Her response along with her general slowness in answering his questions didn't shock him. Most pets he had the displeasure of knowing had been compelled so many times that they didn't even know where they were most of the time.

The less mental guards and intellect a human had, the easier it was to manipulate them. Over time, the more a human was compelled, the less they retained of themselves, slowly turning into mindless, walking blood bags.

Revulsion boiled inside of him at finding himself in the presence of such a creature, sharply followed by a dark anger from having to have fed from one.

"Who. Is. Your. Master?" he snarled, his voice low and dangerous. As soon as the words left his mouth, a sound in the distance grabbed his attention. He tilted his head toward it, intrigued.

Despite Caroline's determination, her strength and sheer will finally failed her. Fluid bubbled and traveled up her throat causing her to cough hard. Tremors wracked her body, she coughed again and again. A trickle of blood descended down the side of her mouth and her eyelids heavily closed.

Klaus growled, distancing himself from her as a few specks of blood flew too close to his person, he then felt her go limp in his arm. Her breathing was shallow and erratic, her heartbeat barely audible.

He wanted to believe she was lying, but deep down he already knew. She had told him the truth, being as compelled as she was, there was no way she could have been dishonest. Although she didn't name her master, he couldn't shake the feeling of simply knowing she did belong to someone.

As much as it annoyed him, he couldn't let her die. Her death wouldn't sit well with him.

Putting his disgust aside, he put his wounded hand over her neck, allowing a few droplets of his ancient blood to enter the laceration. It began to close, the shredded skin knitting itself back together.

It was a shame that two drops of his blood served to heal so much of her, while the copious amount he took from her only managed to partially heal some of his smaller, superficial wounds

It didn't surprise him that it only took two drops of his blood to heal her wound completely. He was an Original, one of the oldest immortals in existence. The older a vampire was, the stronger their blood was.

Vampires using blood to heal humans was rare. They had healing agents in their saliva that facilitated feeding from humans, making it very easy to avoid leaving behind a trail of humans dying from bite wounds, without necessitating blood sharing. Being a hybrid, Klaus' saliva lacked those beneficial properties. Instead, his saliva contained highly venomous neurotoxins. An inherited werewolf trait given to him by his sire. To his knowledge it was perfectly benign to humans, but very dangerous to vampires.

Ending his speculative thoughts, he hauled her body over his shoulder none too gently, quickly carrying her through the forest to follow the sound of the car.

Klaus blurred onto the middle of the street making the small, blue car's wheels come to a screeching halt.

He carelessly lowered the human he carried onto the ground, and sped over the two other humans in the car, his fangs already extended.

After feeding, compelling, and implanting memories, he made his way back to the human girl strewn on the cold, wet gravel.

Kneeling down, he partially placed her head in his lap, forcibly opening her mouth. Using one of his sharp claws he slashed his wrist, pressing the wound against her pale lips, making sure at least a few drops entered her system.

He moved his wrist away, and waited for her to open her eyes.

Green eyes fluttered open for a few moments, but it was enough for him to compel her and implant memories.

Satisfied and feeling accomplished for not tarnishing his honor, Klaus stretched his stiff muscles and made his way back into the woods. He was far from being fully healed, but he had taken enough blood to no longer feel feral.

He had absolutely no intention of ever mentioning having fed from humans again, much less a pet. His pride wouldn't allow it.

A look of triumph graced his features when he finally found his cellphone.

Never before had he ever appreciated Kol's constant nagging of getting a waterproof phone as much as he did now.

Looking down at the screen, he debated on whom to call.

A grim smile touched the corners of his lips as he realized how much of a hassle cleaning the gory remains of his victims was going to be. Killing was always fun, too bad he couldn't say the same thing about disposing of the evidence of said fun.

He began making the call as he entered the cabin.

. . .

Caroline groaned softly, eyelashes fluttering as someone gently probed her shoulder, a voice speaking to her from above.

She was disorientated, cold, and sore all over. There was a faint taste of something coppery in her mouth.

Drowsily she began opening her cloudy eyes, they soon went wide with fear as memories came rushing back to her. She scrambled on the gravel, scraping her skin as she jumped to her feet.

Quickly placing a shaky hand on her neck, she wildly looked around, frantically searching for a pair of yellow, glowing eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

Her heart painfully beat against her ribcage as she held herself as still as possible, fighting to control the rising panic bubbling inside of her, her breathing coming in small, ragged gasps. Her eyes were enormous, anxiously searching for her mysterious attacker, fearing actually having to face him again. A shudder of fear and nausea shook her tired body at the mere thought of it. Deep down she knew she would never be able to forget those glowing, merciless eyes.

Vivid, terrifying memories of her attack were quickly replaying in her mind as she inspected her neck with trembling fingers, a frown of confusion marring her features as they made contact with wet, smooth skin.

Her paranoid gaze finally latched onto a woman dressed in a 70's disco costume with a white afro wig, hurriedly advancing toward her. A benevolent smile playing on her bright pink lips, her platform shoes making a crunching sound with every step she took. Caroline finally took notice of the small, blue car in the middle of the road behind the woman.

Caroline thought it was odd, but then remembered it was Halloween, or at least it had been a few hours ago. Looking down at the gravel at her feet, more confusion plagued her.

She didn't understand why she was in the middle of the road. The last thing she could recall was being in the woods, fighting for her life.

_What is going on? How did I get here?_

"Are you okay?" asked a voice behind her.

Caroline whirled around, alarmed.

The voice belonged to a gaunt-looking woman dressed in an almost completely white Victorian dress, with the exception of a few splatters of blood decorating the garment.

In her panicked state Caroline almost missed the fact that the blood was fake, and the "gaunt" look was merely the result of makeup.

She forced herself to take a deep, calming breath, trying to regain control of her chaotic emotions.

"I-I don't know," Caroline honestly answered, still perplexed at the turn of events taking place.

"What happened?" she quickly asked, frantic for information.

The Victorian woman's eyes flickered with an unidentifiable emotion and she urged the other costumed woman to hurry.

"You said you were waiting for the bus over there, but hit your head when you were trying to take cover from the rain," explained the woman, pointing to a spot.

Caroline followed her finger, and saw that she was pointing to the bus top, the last one in the woods. The very same bus stop she had gotten off on.

"You waved us down, and I was trying to help you, then you just fainted," added the woman.

The 70's disco dressed woman finally reached them, trying to catch her breath. Her eyes roamed over Caroline, worry evident in their depths.

"I think she might have hit her head again when she fainted, Jess," informed the Victorian woman to 'Jess' in a low whisper, but not low enough that Caroline missed it.

"You didn't hit your head just now, did you? You fell pretty hard," asked Jess, reaching to touch her head.

Caroline was speechless. She didn't remember doing anything that these two women were telling her she had done.

"May I? I'm a registered nurse," explained Jess, her hand hovering above Caroline's head while she waited for confirmation.

She nodded, allowing the woman to check her for injuries. She winced when she grazed a particularly sore spot on her head.

"Here, how many fingers am I holding up?" asked the registered nurse.

"4," she automatically answered without hesitation.

A series of similar questions testing her concentration followed.

"Good, you don't seem to have a concussion," remarked Jess after a few moments, approving of the answers being given, "now, what's the last thing you remember?"

_I was lost in the middle of the woods, then something with glowing, yellow eyes-_

Caroline frowned, feeling a new wave of dizziness wash over her, making her knees buckles just by thinking about it, about a hand wrapped around her neck, caging her against a tree, teeth ripping into her throat.

A firm arm steadied her.

She couldn't simply tell the nurse what had happened to her without sounding insane. As much as she hated it, she couldn't help but doubt herself and wonder if had actually happened at all.

While the feeling of being terrified persisted, her conviction regarding her attack was wavering.

She had absolutely no recollection of anything the nurse and her companion told her she had said, and done, but she also had no physical evidence of ever being attacked.

There was nothing to support the anxiety consuming her, prompting her to believe that somewhere in the middle of the woods, something evil lurked. Something that had sunk its fangs into her.

Once again she scanned the wet, unblemished skin of her neck, relieved to find it still smooth, but concerned by what it implicated.

The feeling of being helpless and in extreme pain was still fresh in her mind.

There was no way she didn't have some sort of mark after what she had been through.

Driven by a need to prove her own sanity was still intact, she reached down, practically ripping her coat away from her legs, desperately searching for a wound.

_I fell, I remember falling over a log and-_

Her prodding fingers only met with damp, muddied skin.

Unbelieving of what she was feeling, she frantically scrapped away some of the mud from her leg, hoping the wound was beneath the covering layer.

Nothing.

Again, she did the same for the other leg, but the result was the same.

No blood, no wound.

As hard as she tried, her mind could not produce a plausible explanation for her sudden memory loss, only violent images of a near-death experience with a monstrosity of a man.

She couldn't shake the image of those eerie yellow eyes glaring at her, of him brutally tearing her skin, feeding off of her.

When she had opened her eyes, she was so sure it had happened, that it had been real.

Now she was uncertain, and concerned with her inability to differentiate between what had really happened and what she had imagined.

Releasing a shuddering breath, she dismissed the idea of her imaginary attack.

_It must've been a dream,_ she reasoned.

She was unwilling to accept those images as a reality, despite her lingering fear, instead choosing to attribute it to a mental manifestation borne out of exhaustion and an overactive imagination.

Even with that logical conclusion, she couldn't help but shiver, her gaze still darting around.

Misinterpreting her shivering, the nurse opened the car door, retrieved a jacket, and pulled it over her dripping form, the thin material doing very little to dry her damp skin.

That's when Caroline finally realized she had been led to the car, without being aware of it, too consumed by her troubling thoughts, her legs automatically moving.

The nurse suddenly reiterated the same question, sounding much more persistent this time.

"I got off the bus…" started Caroline, making a strenuous effort to recall what had truly taken place.

She was desperately trying to search for something to say.

_Why can't I remember?_

It was useless, she had no idea what had transpired after that. She didn't even remember hitting her head, much less flagging down a car and conversing with a stranger about her predicament.

"Then you were waiting for the bus over there, but hit your head when you were trying to take cover from the rain," finished the Victorian dressed woman again, her voice sounding soothing, yet mechanic.

"And you fainted. You also hit your head on your way down," quickly added the nurse, jumping in, barely giving Caroline the opportunity to process what was being said.

She noticed that they were trying very hard to convince her, their watchful eyes searching her face to see something, maybe a sign that their words were helping in triggering her reluctant memory.

Their continued scrutiny made her uncomfortable, they were expecting an answer, and although they seemed friendly as they tried to calm her frazzled nerves, there was something about them that made her wary.

They almost seemed  _too_ helpful.

In her experience, very few people were genuinely friendly.

She was grateful for their willingness to help, but she couldn't help but wonder if they were expecting some sort of reimbursement for their time.

With that thought, she looked around for her purse, finally taking notice of its absence.

Horror, of a different kind, quickly dawned on her.

"My purse!" she muttered, searching the ground.

The two women exchanged a look, before aiding her.

They searched around the car, underneath it, and at the bus stop, but were unsuccessful in finding anything.

"I don't think I saw a purse on you," answered one of them.

"Yeah, it was just you, you didn't have anything with you," chimed in the other voice.

Caroline's shoulders slumped in defeat. She had to find her purse, without it she wouldn't be able to pay the monthly rent due in a few days or buy groceries for the week.

As her head began throbbing, she rubbed her aching temples, trying to soothe away the pain.

"What time is it?" she asked to no one in particular, knowing she wasn't going to find her purse.

There was a part of her that hoped they were right and she hadn't brought her purse with her.

Maybe she had left in her locker, she knew it was unlikely, but she held onto that glimmer of hope, not wanting to face the harsh repercussions of losing her wallet, along with other personal items.

The Victorian woman answered her question, and Caroline gave a warily polite smile in return.

It wasn't nearly as early as she had thought.

Her chest tightened at the thought of her grandmother being left unattended. She had paid one of her neighbors to watch over her, but they must have left by now.

"We can give you a ride, if you want. It looks like it's going to rain," said the nurse, her eyes flittering toward the blonde.

Beyond exhausted, Caroline only gave a nod of gratitude, before glancing upward, taking notice of the rays of light trying to infiltrate the bruised-colored sky.

It started to rain, the noisy droplets hitting the gravel only serving to upgrade her headache to a full-blown migraine.

The two women gestured in unison for her to get in the car. They did it in such a synchronized manner, that it made her stop dead in her tracks.

_Creepy,_ came the unbidden thought, along with a pinprick of unease.

Casting a look towards the bus stop, she bit the bottom of her lip in contemplation.

She was torn. A part of her wanted to accept the car ride, but another part of her wanted to put as much distance as possible from her and the odd duo.

. . .

"Delivery," called out an amused, familiar voice.

Klaus, opened the Cabin door, allowing his brother to enter the room.

Kol threw a bag at him, while carelessly lowering the compelled vampire he had over his shoulder onto the floor.

"Only thing I could find at this ungodly hour," he explained, knowing the clothing in the bag, along with the vampire meal he had brought were not up to his older brother's high standards.

Before the body hit the floor, Klaus caught the vampire and quickly bit into its neck, nearly ripping off the head from the sheer force of his bite.

"I see my timing is as impeccable as usual," announced Kol, his eyes gleaming with merriment as he took in the dark scarlet splashes decorating the room, the limbs and pieces of detached flesh strewn across the bloodied floor.

_Always the artist,_ he thought, appreciating Klaus' artwork.

Inhaling deeply, his dark eyes narrowed, shock registering in his mind as he smelt his brother's blood still lingering in the air.

The smell of his blood overpowered the other scents. He must had lost a substantial amount for the scent to still linger, especially to such a palpable degree that even his comparatively inferior sense of smell was able to detect it.

Kol looked over at his older brother, assessing him to make sure he was no longer bleeding.

The clothes he wore, or at least what was left of them, were torn and drenched in blood.

What worried the usually mirthful original was that he knew his brother's shirt was stained with his very own blood.

Had he known Klaus' condition had been this dire, he would have brought more, stronger vampires for him to feed on.

_Damn your pride, Nik._

"You need more blood," he drawled slowly, cautiously offering his wrist, not wanting to aggravate him in his current state.

"I'm fine," coldly cut in Klaus, roughly pushing Kol's arm away.

"If  _I_  can smell your blood, then you're not fine. What the devil happened, anyway? You didn't mention any of this over the phone," responded Kol, irritation seeping into his voice.

It there was one thing he didn't take kindly to, it was rejection.

He knew Klaus would have to give some of his blood in return to make sure the werewolf venom didn't take effect, but he didn't think he would outright dismiss his offer.

Klaus heaved a sigh, knowing this was going to take a while. All he wanted was a relaxing shower, to remove the blood and gore from his weary body.

Looking over at Kol's expectant face, he knew that shower was not in his near future.

When he had called his younger brother, after he had inspected the hunters' vehicle, an endeavor that had proved fruitless, he had been pleasantly surprised to learn that he was already in Stefan's assigned city.

Usually his presumptuous nature tended to grate at his nerves, but for once he was thankful that Kol had merely assumed he would finish his task within an hour or two after landing, giving them more than enough time to find a Halloween party afterwards, and have some well-deserved fun.

Those plans had gone to hell, however.

On the bright side, Kol was the one that knew how handle human deaths, and he also had gotten him some clean clothing, and a hurried snack.

The supernatural world provided discreet services to get rid of human bodies, without detection.

Klaus had no use for such services, and on the rare occasion he did kill a human, Kol always managed the clean-up.

As if picking up on his wondering thoughts, Kol said, "They'll be here in ten minutes. Get dressed. You'll explain back at the hotel."

Klaus gave him a nod of acknowledgment, knowing arguing would be futile.

Sometimes his little brother reminded him too much of himself. He reached into the bag, only to pull the single most hideous shirt he'd seen in a while.

Reaching deeper, into the bag, he grimaced as his fingers touched the trousers. They felt like sandpaper.

Somehow he figured Kol would be silently laughing at his expense, but a quick glance proved his assumption was wrong.

For once, Kol was solemn, no sort of malicious amusement dancing in his eyes.

His mouth was set in a grim line, his body exuding tension.

Klaus heaved an even bigger sigh, wondering if he should have called Stefan instead.

Despite Kol's weird behavior, Klaus knew he had made the right choice in calling him.

Had he called Stefan, his sister would have overheard, and if his sister knew, Elijah would immediately be informed, which would eventually and inevitably lead to his mother being informed.

_Nobody can keep a bloody secret in this family._

A wry smile graced his lips.

He was planning on telling his mother a watered down version of what had taken place, but he knew she was in the middle of dealing with the Werewolf council regarding the recent slayings. Something that he knew always put her on edge.

Not that he could blame her. If it were up to him, he would kill every last sodding werewolf.

He, unlike his beloved mother, was unable to forgive past transgressions, whether those slights against him were real or imagined made little difference.

Klaus didn't want to add to her stress, especially when he had no valuable information that could at least be worth it.

After putting on the offending clothing, he stretched his muscles, inadvertently causing a few of the deeper, less healed wounds to bleed slightly.

He hissed a curse, not out of pain, but frustration.

Being centuries old and powerful came with a price, a high price that demanded copious amounts of blood to be fully healed.

Kol didn't like how unusually pale and tired his brother looked. He needed more blood. The vampire he had drained wasn't nearly strong enough.

Strong vampires required strong blood.

Klaus' reluctance to exchange blood always baffled him. It wasn't as if he was going to bite him and leave him to die from the poison.

An idea began forming in his mind. If his brother didn't want to feed from the source, then that was fine with him. There were other ways to feed.

Kol reached down, grabbing the dying vampire's head, he gave a sharp tug, detaching it.

Some of the flesh had disintegrated, but he still removed the few stubborn pieces that remained.

If there ever were a contest to see which brother was more sadistic, Kol had to admit that Klaus definitely inflicted more pain onto his victims.

While extreme or complete blood loss led to desiccation amongst vampires, Klaus' hybrid venom prevented a vampire's body from desiccating.

Instead, the vampire would slowly disintegrate, feeling every painful second, whilst being fully aware that their body was rapidly decomposing, but being completely helpless to do anything about it.

Turning the skull over in his hand, he removed the top section, using it as a makeshift bowl, throwing the useless remnants on the floor.

He bit deeply into his right wrist, capturing the crimson liquid with the bowl in his left hand.

Healing the wound with a flick of his tongue, he offered the skull to Klaus with a smirk.

"Just like old times," reminisced the hybrid, accepting the blood.

"Exactly like old times," he confirmed.


	9. Chapter 9

The entire ride back toward her apartment, the two women kept repeating the same things over and over. While their words were intended to only soothe, and alleviate her paranoia, the nearly robotic manner in which they were delivered in, had the opposite effect on her.

Their behavior, and movements unnerved her. They seemed strangely rehearsed, and forced.

Within minutes into the car ride, she regretted accepting their offer, even as the loud, inconsistent sheets of rain drumming against the roof of the car and the swishing sound of the wet gravel reminded her that this was the best decision she could have made, given her circumstance.

Currently, she was much more inclined to face the tumultuous autumn weather, that was bound to have deleterious repercussions on her health, on her own, than to endure another moment of this eerie companionship.

For reasons she couldn't even explain to herself, she felt tense and uncomfortable.

Focusing her gaze on the dim outlines of the two women sitting in front of her, it occurred to her then that she didn't know her companions at all, nor their true intentions.

For all she knew, this could be a part of a charade, and the motivation behind their actions could be much more sinister than she had naively assumed.

She had no phone with her, and the canister of pepper spray she carried with her was in her missing purse.

Right now, in this moment, she was the very definition of the perfect victim.

Victim of what sort of crime, she had no idea, but plausible scenarios that ended with her physically harmed or worse were drilling into her mind.

Fear surged, dizzying her mind, pushing away rationality.

The car then seemed too small, much too similar to a cage.

She knew her thoughts bordered dangerously close to hysteria, and that's exactly how she felt, on the verge of hysteria.

A pulsating ache began at her temples and radiated throughout her entire head.

Cradling her throbbing skull in her palms, as if to physically stop the pain assaulting it, she closed her eyes, but it only worsened her condition as vivid scenes of her nightmare played themselves over her darkened eyelids like a film.

Even as she tried to convince herself that it had all been a mental journey, mere snippets of her overactive imagination, her body seemed to recall with exact remembrance the sensation of pointed teeth sinking into her neck, powerful hands manipulating her frame as if she weighed nothing, a condescending voice insulting her, and dangerous, glowing eyes the color molten gold that never blinked boring into her.

The air around her was suddenly thick, and breathing became increasingly difficult.

Her heart raced, painfully pounding against her chest.

Feeling the car come to a stop, her eyes flew open in alarm.

The alarm in her gaze was replaced with relief when she saw the familiar store she had given them directions to come into view.

Caroline bolted out the vehicle with hasty, mumbled words of gratitude, acceding to a nervous urge that screamed for an immediate physical separation between her and her saviors.

Her steps quickened with each passing second, until she found herself nearly running.

She was extremely glad she hadn't told them, where she lived, instead convincing them, after much effort, to simply drop her off at the convenience store that was close to her apartment, but not close enough to give away her address.

This was done out of pure politeness on her behalf, not wanting to impose on them for more than was necessary, or so she had thought. Now, she was willing to accept that she had been subconsciously wary of the odd pair even before getting inside the small confines of the car with them.

The awful tension coiling in her body slowly lessened with every step that brought her closer to her apartment.

Gradually, she slowed down.

After was seemed like an eternity, the air around her was no longer oppressively thick, and her harsh wheezes of panicked air entering her lungs morphed into controlled, deep breaths.

A moment passed, and then another, until she finally became aware of how soaked her clothing was.

She was drenched, and even though she was far away from the storm unleashing itself in the woods, her clothes were still dripping, and sticking to her cold, shivering body.

Soon enough, her panic-stricken mind began to clear, allowing her to think and analyze.

Hugging herself in a vain effort to halt the full abandonment of her lingering body heat as it rapidly seeped away, she felt herself blush when she belatedly realized how rude and ridiculous she had behaved.

The women had done nothing to warrant her negative, condemning thoughts. Instead of showing them genuine appreciation, she had practically fled from them, and in the process neglected to return the thin jacket the nurse had draped over her shoulders.

Embarrassment and regret washed over her, momentarily overshadowing her fatigue.

She was so exhausted, and the residual effects of her recent panic attack were tiring her even further.

Pushing aside the weariness and frigidity of her stiff body, she trudged on.

The rest of the walk to her apartment absorbed most of her remaining energy. A lot of post-Halloween partygoers were still loitering the streets. They seemed unfazed by her appearance.

She almost wondered why, but an oblivious, intoxicated man that praised her "zombie" costume unintentionally enlightened her, and she only half-heartedly thanked him, not wanting to have to explain to a drunkard that she was, in fact, not wearing a costume.

She finally reached her apartment. Reaching for the doorknob, she found it was locked.

_The key is in my purse._

Crossing her fingers and praying it was still there, she checked underneath the fake plant, next to the doormat. The spare key was still there.

Entering her apartment, she was not surprised to find that the neighbor she had left in charge of her grandmother had left.

Not that she could blame her, she was nearly two hours late.

The woman had left a written note in her living room, explaining that she had called to notify her that she had to leave, but received no answer.

Taking a deep breath, she went to her grandmother's bedroom, mentally preparing herself for what she knew was going to be a draining conversation. As much as she loved her grandmother, keeping up with her ever-changing imaginary scenery was draining.

Guilt invaded her as the thought registered, knowing she was the last person who should be criticizing someone else for their overactive imagination.

A relaxed sigh escaped her lips once she was presented with her grandmother's sleeping form.

With heavy steps, she went to the bathroom to take a shower.

Hardly recognizing herself, she gasped into the mirror.

Her hair was in wild disarray, her makeup smeared, and her clothing was muddy and dirty.

The shock of her reflection wore off as her eyelids began feeling heavy.

Caroline shook her head slightly, determined to stay awake, ignoring the waves of exhaustion beating at her.

Undressing, she heavily sighed looking down at her coat and uniform, knowing she had to wash them before the stains set in.

Studying her body as the warm water poured over her, she found that she had no visible wounds, only a faint soreness that she assumed was a minor consequence from unceremoniously fainting on a gravel road.

After her shower, she made herself some of her favorite tea, hoping it would give her a boost of severely needed energy, and forced herself to go downstairs to the communal laundry room to wash her clothes.

In her apartment once again, she collapsed onto the closest couch, contemplating on what to do next.

Furrowing her brow, and glancing at the clock, she silently debated with herself on whether to call the only number she knew from memory.

She didn't want to go to work only to be denied entry by Tyler. Even if she didn't have a job, a thought that made her blood freeze, she still needed to be able to get into the club to look for her purse in the break room.

Logically, she knew she had to call him, it was a necessity, however a part of her felt that calling Stefan at this hour to sort out her employment issue seemed inappropriate somehow, despite knowing from experience that he was most likely awake.

Pushing that feeling of discomfort aside, she reached for the house phone and dialed, knowing that if he didn't answer she could at least leave a voicemail.

A bigger part of her wished he would answer because she wanted to hear his voice.

The phone rang, and on the third ring he finally answered.

"Hello?" someone answered, the voice wasn't particularly welcoming.

"Stefan? It's Caroline," she greeted, suddenly nervous.

_Did I dial the wrong number?_

"Oh, hey, I didn't recognize the number," he explained, sounding more like his usual self.

She could feel him smiling on the other end.

"Right, um, I was just wondering if I was scheduled for tonight's shift?" she questioned, wincing at her unsubtle approach.

There was a pause.

"Caroline, is everything okay?" asked Stefan.

He sounded concerned.

She nodded, but then realized he couldn't see her.

"I just had a long night," she confided after a long silence.

"Did you want tonight off?" he inquired, assuming she was calling to request a day off.

"No!" she hurriedly objected.

"What I'm trying to say is," she began, expelling a breath she didn't she was holding, "that I'm not sure if I still have a job or not."

"Why?" he demanded, clearly puzzled.

"Because I think Tyler fired me. He was being…" her voice trailed off, unable to find the right words to describe her manager without them being offensive.

"An asshole with a superiority complex?" offered Stefan.

Caroline laughed softly at his candor, which she suspected was his intent.

If there was one thing that she could always count on Stefan for, it was his unfiltered honesty.

"Yes, exactly," she answered with, a slow, amused smile.

"Don't worry about Tyler. I'll deal with him," he promised.

"Thank you, Stefan," she murmured.

"You'll always have a job as long as I'm around," he assured her gently, making a tingle of warmth travel down her spine.

She was about to answer when she heard a flirtatious, feminine voice in the background.

A frown replaced her smile, and her heart fluttered strangely at the sound.

"Oh, I didn't know you were busy. I'm sorry for calling," she said, a blush rising in her cheeks.

"Nonsense. I can still talk," he replied, chuckling as the feminine voice scolded him.

She heard the voice say something else, causing him to murmur something in return she couldn't decipher.

Feeling awkward, she remained quiet.

An uneasy silence simmered between them, but was disrupted when he asked her if she needed anything else.

"Oh, no, that was it," Caroline admitted, not knowing how to end the conversation.

"I'll see you at work, then?" he asked, sensing she didn't want to talk anymore.

She said he would, and hung up.

Caroline groaned. That had to have been one the most awkward conversations she ever had with Stefan.

She reflexively snuggled deeper into the couch, offhandedly wondering why he had neglected to tell her that he was involved with someone, considering how many conversations they had shared while working together.

A loud yawn rumbled out of her, and she immediately straightened her posture on the seat, knowing she still had to go back to the communal laundry to transfer her clothes from the washing machine into one of the dryers.

In addition to that task, she still had to give her grandmother breakfast in a few hours.

Her mind was aware of how imperative it was to stay awake, but her body had a different agenda.

Against her will, her eyes closed, and it wasn't until her grandmother's usual caretaker rang the doorbell at evening that she woke up.

. . .

"Wake up, sleeping beauty," taunted a voice, above him.

"You're hideous up close," replied Klaus, not bothering with opening his eyes, knowing his brother's face was hovering over his resting form.

"Such cruel words wound my heart," retorted Kol, putting a hand over his heart for emphasis, uncaring that he no audience to witness the dramatization.

He remained quiet for full five seconds before chuckling.

"You did say to wake you," Kol pressed.

Klaus finally opened his eyes, stretching his arms, enjoying the sight of his regenerated fingers flexing.

Breathing in, his eyes widened imperceptibly as a rich aroma filled his sensitive nose.

He then pushed himself on his elbows, to check his surroundings.

"What's this?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow at Kol. Three lesser vampires were standing before him, their necks bared to him in submission, beckoning him.

"Dinner," replied his younger brother, motioning to them.

Klaus proceeded to drain the vampires, enjoying the warmth and familiar hum of power surging through him as he hungrily fed.

 _This is what blood is supposed to taste like,_ he approved, still being able to vividly recall how putrid the pet's blood he had been forced to consume had tasted.

Throwing the last drained vampire onto the floor, he disdainfully looked down at his clothing or lack thereof.

He was only wearing the hotel's complimentary robe. If he was going to visit Damon's nightclub for the first time to see Stefan, he definitely wasn't going to be dressed like a commoner. He needed to look presentable, at the very least.

Looking at himself in full-length mirror, he saw Kol wave a bag in the reflection.

His pale eyes narrowed, the last outfit, the one that was currently littering the bathroom floor, had been nothing to brag about.

"You'll like these," promised his brother.

Removing the clothing from the bag with wariness, he found that he wasn't entirely opposed to wearing them.

"So, tell me again, why we can't just go to Stefan's?" asked Kol, directing the question to Klaus' retreating back as he entered the bathroom to change.

"Because Rebekah would be there," he plainly answered.

"Our sister is-" commenced the younger vampire, only to be interrupted by Klaus's growl.

"I told you to wake me up two hours ago, Kol," he chastised, agitation roughening his voice, his eyes glowing amber at the sight of the time.

"I thought you could use the extra rest," explained Kol, not bothering to lie, acutely aware of his ability to detect dishonesty.

A few moments of silence passed. The brunet vampire merely waited, lazily reclining on the couch, dispassionately gazing at the suffering vampires that were slowly disintegrating into nothing on the floor.

He wasn't in the least apologetic for allowing his brother to sleep in.

Unless they were under extreme duress, it was considered extremely rare for vampires to sleep, as their bodies were constantly being rejuvenated with blood.

The fact that Klaus had slept for as many hours as he had, was a disturbing testament to how much damage had been done to his body.

Kol would never admit to just how concerned he had been by the amount of blood that he had lost. He had seen much grislier injuries on some of their shared victims, but it was one thing to see those injuries on strangers, and quite another thing to see them on his own brother.

In his mind, Klaus was untouchable, and seeing him so wounded had shattered that illusion, one he had maintained for far too many years to count.

It was disconcerting how close he had been to desiccating when he had found him.

He knew he had definitely downplayed the amount of torture and blood loss he had endured, and would have never slept if he hadn't insisted upon it.

Any sort of weakness shamed Klaus.

Kol idly wondered which had suffered more, his body or his ego.

Klaus finally emerged, he didn't say anything, but gave his brother a look that conveyed his gratitude.

It was the closest he would ever come to thanking someone, and Kol recognized the look for what it was.

Minutes later, they found themselves in what was advertised to be a 'Gentleman's club'.

They both made their way to the bar, hoping to dull their senses with alcohol.

While their heightened senses could be considered a blessing in certain circumstances, they had the same potential to be a curse, especially in crowded places.

Klaus' nose slightly crinkled in disgust.

The place reeked, not only of unwashed bodies, sweat, and lust, but of dogs.

_Wet dogs… wolves._

The scent was heavily cloaked, but he could recognize it anywhere.

Kol seemed unaware, easily flirting with the herd of scantily clothed women gathering around him.

He felt contempt and anger flooding his body, eyes brightening in the darkness of the club.

A hand fell on his arm, restraining him.

"Calm down, Klaus," cautioned Stefan, noting how his eyes were glittering with menace.

"Ah, Stefan. We need to talk," he greeted, "but first, where is that stench coming from?

"He's not working tonight," cryptically replied the green-eyed enforcer, easily deciphering which particular scent he was referring to.

"Pity," he retorted, a smirk decorating his angelic face.

"So, what did you want to talk about? Must be serious enough for you to come here, you hate these types of clubs," questioned Stefan, curious about his friend's motive, while at the same time wanting to redirect the conversation to a safe topic that would not inspire his wrath.

It was no secret that Klaus detested werewolves. No amount of laws could ensure the well-being of any wolves that were unfortunate enough to cross paths with him.

He was first and foremost a predator, and even though he was his friend, Stefan couldn't ignore how dangerous and unpredictable he was.

He cast a quick glance to Caroline, now thankful, instead of worried, that she was still ignoring him.

"Is there a safe room where we can talk?" Klaus asked, not wanting anyone to overhear them.

His tone was solemn, and impersonal, confirming that he was, indeed, here to discuss business.

Stefan gestured to an office, now more curious than ever, and he followed behind him.

. . .

Caroline was delivering drinks as fast as humanly possible. The club was packed, and most of her coworkers were huddled together, whispering amongst themselves.

They were obviously taking advantage of Tyler's absence.

Not that it bothered her, the less they worked, the more money she could make.

Her uniform was damp from not having had enough time to dry it, and she was still upset over finding that her purse was still missing, but she tried to push those thoughts aside.

There was a part of her that wanted to ask Stefan to help her find it, but she really didn't want to approach him anytime soon, especially now that she knew he had a girlfriend.

It surprised her that she was bothered by it.

Maybe she was just upset at finding out the way she had, or maybe she read too much into his friendly gestures, whichever the case, she didn't like the awkward feeling that she got when she thought of him.

She made it her goal not to approach his side of the bar, instead relying on the other bartender to mix her drinks.

Half an hour passed, and she found herself overwhelmed. There were too many customers, too many orders, not enough drinks.

Her gaze kept flickering to the huddled cocktail waitresses, slender hands clenching into fists. As much as she appreciated the opportunity to make extra money, she was getting tired.

She stalked over to them, exasperation radiating from her weary body.

" _Hey_ , are you guys even going to work tonight-"

Despite it seeming impossible, in the middle of all of her coworkers, was a man, sitting, a smug look on his face. He was handsome, and dressed in sharp, dark clothing. There was an air about him that screamed money and power.

In spite of herself, she felt her face flush, the angry question dying on her lips.

He had dark, expressive eyes, they seemed to burn right through her.

"Good evening," he said with a charming smile, leaning in to read her name tag, "Caroline."

His accent immediately caught her attention, her emerald eyes widened.

"Thank you, same to you," she choked out.

Feeling sick from his proximity, she backed away, and left, not daring to look back at him.

. . .

Kol was originally amused by the girl's reaction, but now he felt slighted.

She had initially been taken aback by his appearance, speechless even, a reaction he was used to, but her expression had changed from surprise to revulsion in seconds.

Now  _that_  was not a reaction he was used to evoking in women.

Usually, women praised his good looks, even more so when he smiled the way he had to her.

. . .

Caroline momentarily shut her eyes tight, composing herself as she delivered more drinks. She knew that, that man's voice wasn't the one that kept playing over in her head, but it sounded so very similar.

 _You're being ridiculous. He has an accent, that's all. It's not like he's wielding a machete around,_ she told herself.

She braced herself as she passed the mysterious stranger on her way back to the bar.

"Oh, Caroline," sang his voice.

She pretended not to hear him.

Kol's eyes narrowed, flashing with anger. He knew she had heard him, but she chose to ignore him.

Nobody ignored him.

Watching her, he dismissed the women around him, slowly straightening himself to his full height, completely intent on physically gathering her attention.

The women were still circling him, impeding his progress.

"Leave. Now," he threatened, sounding practically feral.

Sensing danger, the women dispersed, giving him worried glances from a safe distance.

"Kol," objected Klaus, reaching his side, mimicking Stefan's placating move from earlier, and placing a hand on his arm.

Kol's dark eyes never wavered from the petite blonde.

Klaus had only been gone for a less than twenty minutes, but once he returned his brother appeared infuriated. When he had left him, he was amusing himself with some of the employees, but now he looked downright murderous.

What could have happened during that time frame?

He suppressed the urge to scoff at himself, knowing that anything could have set Kol off in a matter of seconds.

Asking what had happened, he patiently waited for Kol to fill him in.

. . .

"See? I told you, you are hideous," Klaus repeated, entertained by the idea of his brother being angry with a  _human_  for ignoring him.

"Shut up, Nik," scowled Kol, some of the anger already melting away.

"Where is she? What does she look like?" I'm intrigued, Casanova," he taunted, completely unfazed.

He followed Kol's gaze.

There was nothing spectacular about the mortal delivering drinks, at least from what he could see, her face was mostly obscured by her golden hair, but he wasn't impressed by what was visible.

She was getting closer to where they were standing, only a table between them.

Caroline glanced up from the table she was dropping off her last drinks at, feeling someone staring.

Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes locked with the iciest eyes she'd ever seen

They were intense, but their natural color relaxed her.

"No yellow eyes..." she unintentionally said with a sigh of relief, her voice barely a whisper, but Klaus heard it.

Kol, who also heard the ambiguous statement, looked over at Klaus.

The small cocktail waitress turned to leave, but a voice froze her.

"Who are you?" asked a familiar, haunting voice.

Caroline's large, frightened eyes briefly jumped back to his face.

Moving as fast as her feet would allow her, she began making her way to the 'employee only' restroom.

Klaus noticed it then, what he had seen in her startled gaze. It was something he never thought he would see in a human.

_Recognition._

His mind went into overdrive, trying to place her.

"The pet," he concluded, disgusted.

_How did she remember?_

He had made sure he erased her memories, and replaced them with fabricated ones.

The two other human women he had fed from had been subjected to the same treatment.

Could it be possible that they, too, remembered?

Something inside him told him that this memory fluke was only limited to her.

Vaguely he heard Kol's voice in the background, but it was drowned out by the blood rushing in his ears.

It was impossible, but most importantly it was insulting that such an abomination had been able to resist his mind compulsion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Reviews would be great.


	10. Chapter 10

It was the distinctive, accented timbre of his voice that made Caroline's blood run cold, and the fact that she had not been able to dismiss the echo of it swirling in her mind over and over throughout the night.

This was the voice that had plagued her thoughts, spiking an unfamiliar sensation of paranoia that rarely affected her usually calm, analytical demeanor.

Without thinking, and driven by an automatic urgency, her feet began to hastily move on their own, away from the origin of the sound.

It was an instinctive retreat.

Her quickened gait made her feel breathless, and unhinged, while the tables and customers she rushed by became a distant blur of colors.

The commencement of a jarring noise, sparking a moment of clarity in her mind, halted her in her tracks.

Music in the room once again boomed as the next dancer took the stage, the lights dimming even further, while the lights concentrated on the poles brightened.

The now loud cheering from the crowd broke her out of her reverie.

Adjusting her eyes, she found herself directly in front of the restroom door, her hand lingering above the lever handle.

Her tendency to analyze without emotion finally took over, clashing with the adrenaline still beating in her veins.

Part of her wanted to hide away in the bathroom, but a larger, more familiar part of her wanted to confirm whether or not she had a valid reason to fear the man.

Slowly turning, she looked back to the bar.

Shock collided inside of her, making Caroline feel unnerved when she realized he wasn't there.

Only the man with the dark eyes remained, but he was beginning to make his way towards the club's exit.

Her eyes made a quick sweep around the room, trying to find the man.

Small, blunt teeth tugged worriedly at her lower lip.

Had she imagined him?

Caroline released a shaky breath.

There was no sign of him.

She was starting to question her mental sanity when she felt a sudden, crushing pressure on her wrist.

Before she could even gasp at the pain, she was roughly pushed inside the restroom door.

She stumbled, but the terrifyingly strong grip someone had on her wrist kept her from falling.

Her back was then forced against the wall, and she found herself looking up at a pair of ghostly blue eyes.

It was him, the man from the bar.

"You didn't answer my question, human," he chastised, interjecting as much venom as he could into the word.

Frightened by the familiarity of the situation, she fervently tugged at her wrist, but it was useless.

His larger body was dwarfing and caging hers, blocking out any possibility of an exit.

She opened her mouth to scream, only to have it roughly covered by his hand.

Caroline winced, and switched tactics, using her free hand and legs to push him away, fiercely scratching his face in the process.

He applied even more pressure to her wrist, a clear warning for her to cease her struggling.

The small cut healed right in front of her, almost as if it had never happened in the first place.

Stopping her panicked efforts, her eyes widened in disbelief, both fascinated and terrified by what she had witnessed.

She stared at the unblemished skin where the scratch had been mere seconds ago, then tore her eyes away, finally meeting his.

They were cold and angry as they bore into her, the crystalline blue gradually brightening into a glowing, golden hue.

Darkened, prominent veins began appearing underneath his gleaming eyes.

A chill ran down her spine.

She had often heard of people describing evil as being a tangible force, and despite her attempts to keep an open-mind, she always ended up disregarding those claims, along with any other superstitions her logic-driven mind deemed 'baseless', but right now in this moment, she was a believer.

There was something so wrong pouring out of him and rolling off in waves, tainting the air around her, making her skin crawl.

What was he?

Her first thought, arising out of pure bewilderment, was that she was somehow in the presence of the Devil himself.

Prior to his face morphing, she had caught a glimpse of what he looked like, and he was beautiful.

He held the type of ethereal beauty she would associate with mythical beings found in ancient folklore.

His skin seemed etched from marble, luminescent and colorless all at once. His eyes were nearly translucent, and his golden, loosely curled hair framed a face that could easily grace the cover of any magazine.

By his appearance alone, he seemed to be a creature that was meant to thrive in the light.

Despite that seemingly wholesome illusion, his presence and eyes, specifically his disturbing eyes, shunned the light, and reminded her of something dark and sinister.

If there was a Devil, then Caroline was certain this man was him, for he was as beautiful as he was terrifying.

. . .

Klaus regarded the trembling human he had captured, allowing his hybrid features to surface, intently gauging her reaction.

There was alarm in her eyes, but just like before there was also recognition in her emerald gaze.

She didn't appear to be overtly shocked by his visage, even her scent hadn't changed dramatically.

It remained fairly steady.

The fear practically oozing out of her only spiked when the wound she had inflicted onto his face had healed.

Leaning in, he inhaled her scent, and was able to detect the smallest trace of arousal, which sickened him far more than it flattered him.

While his siblings found the idea of eliciting such reactions from mortals to be amusing and flattering, he detested it because on some level, it meant that humans thought they were on the same hierarchical rank as his family.

A notion that was offensive to him.

They were superior, and they always would be.

He would rather be feared than lusted after.

Klaus felt the girl's heart rate unexpectedly quickening, her fear spiking to an extraordinary level.

It was then that he realized he was leaning particularly close to her neck, too close.

She was protecting it with her hand, covering as much skin as she could, her eyes large and anxious, silently pleading with him not to bite her.

There was no denying it now, she knew what he was.

A weird sensation settled in his stomach. A mortal had never known his true identity, all of those that were unfortunate to know it, were mere seconds away from death, but this girl knew.

He intended to find out exactly how such an insolent human was able to resist his compulsion. She had struck him and that in itself guaranteed her death, however, he first had to satiate his curiosity, and not let his impulse get the better of him.

His eyes narrowed, feeling the flesh of his palm being bitten.

Her blunt teeth were struggling to puncture his skin.

Her teeth were ineffectual. He supposed her intention was to cause pain, but it only served to amuse him.

A predatory smirk twisted his lips.

He still had time to play with his prey before interrogating her. Kol was most likely getting an earful from their mother for abandoning his duties. He was grateful his mother had chosen to call when she had because he knew Kol would have questions, questions he wasn't prepared to answer just yet.

Fangs sprouted in his mouth.

He made it a point to show them off to her before addressing her.

"Is that supposed to hurt?" he mocked, enjoying how still she became.

Klaus tightened the grip he had on her mouth, bringing the wrist he still held to his mouth.

"Now, if you don't stop this, I'll show you a proper bite. Understood?" He asked, fully aware of the fact that tasting her pungent blood was the last thing he wanted to do, not that she knew that.

A confirmatory nod was his answer.

"No screaming, either," he warned, slowly relinquishing the hold he had on her mouth and wrist.

He was expecting her to comply, but as soon as he freed her, she tried kneeing his crotch and screamed at the top of her lungs.

Fortunately for him, the music and cheering outside was more than enough to drown out her few screams.

. . .

Caroline screamed as loud as she could before she felt his hand once again cover he mouth, muffling her screams.

This time he was more brutal, and she tasted her own blood on her tongue.

Her attempt to incapacitate him didn't work, either.

A sickening crack filled the room.

She looked down at her wrist, noticing how bizarre and crooked it looked.

The whole world seemed to slow down as she tried to move her numb wrist.

Pain soon followed, radiating up her arm.

It was broken.

He had broken her wrist with a casual flick of his fingers.

"Are you too simple-minded to follow orders, or are you that eager to die?" he threatened, his voice full of menace.

Her heart began slamming so hard she was waiting for it to burst through her chest, but as the actual condescending words registered in her mind, she felt some of her terror morph into something else.

Caroline's eyes slightly narrowed. Despite the fear and agonizing pain clawing at her, anger burned in her gut, momentarily overpowering her other emotions.

"If you make a sound, this time it'll be your neck," promised Klaus.

Caroline gasped as soon as he removed his hand, struggling not to cry out in pain, cradling her wounded wrist.

She defiantly stared up at him, not caring to wipe the burning tears trailing down her cheeks.

"Who are you?" he asked, his eyes hard and concentrated on hers.

"Caroline," she answered lifting her chin, disliking the faint tremor audible in her voice, and pointing to her name tag.

She nervously swallowed when he took a threatening step toward her.

"Don't get cheeky with me, Caroline", he scolded.

Caroline's glare dwindled only slightly in intensity.

"How were you able to resist being compelled?" finally asked Klaus, needing to know.

Her brows drew in confusion.

"I don't know what you mean," responded a puzzled Caroline.

Klaus growled, forcefully grabbing her neck, choking her, and lifting her off the ground to his eye level.

"I'm not in the mood for games," he snarled, adding more pressure.

She coughed, clawing at his hand, and hissing in discomfort as her broken wrist was jolted.

"I-I'm not playing any games! I don't know what you're talking a-about," she managed to rasp.

To his disbelief, he realized she wasn't lying.

The door behind them opened. Klaus heaved a sigh, already knowing who it was, but not bothering to turn around.

He had locked the door when he had come after the girl, which meant only the owner or managers could unlock the door.

From what he had gathered, the only manager on shift tonight was Stefan.

"What is it, Stefan? I'm busy," he greeted, not bothering to hide the irritation in his voice.

"Put her down, Klaus," responded Stefan.

"l'll kill her somewhere else, if that's the problem," added Klaus, mistakenly assuming Stefan simply didn't want to deal with the mess of a dead body.

"I said put her down, Klaus," repeated Stefan, his voice taking an authoritative edge.

That caught his attention.

Klaus turned to face his friend, still keeping his grip on Caroline.

"Why?" he demanded, his eyes narrowed.

Stefan tried to remain calm, knowing anything could trigger the hybrid enforcer. He wanted to save his friend, but he knew he had to be careful. Klaus was dangerous, especially when angry.

He internally weighed his options, finally deciding on the truth, knowing lying to Klaus was useless.

Caroline's face began taking on a bluish tint.

"Because she's mine," answered Stefan, bracing himself for the worst.

"Your pet?" pressed Klaus, visibly aggravated.

"Yes," he clarified.

Klaus abruptly released Caroline, and fully turned toward Stefan.

Stefan made a move to approach her crumpled form, but Klaus gave him a look that clearly warned him to stay back.

He cast a worried glance in her direction, she didn't seem to be moving anymore.

"Does my sister know about this?" asked Klaus, his voice taking a dark undertone.

Being a pet had more implications than meeting the simple dietary needs of a vampire.

Stefan shook his head, "It's not what you think."

"Then by all means, enlighten me," sarcastically retorted Klaus, taking a step toward Stefan.


	11. Chapter 11

Klaus stepped closer to the vampire he considered a friend for far too many years to count. He noticed how hesitant he looked, very unlike his usual self, uneasiness practically radiating off of him.

Violent, ugly emotions swirled in his chest at the sight of Stefan's conflicted face, vividly aware of the stolen glances he kept directing to the human strewn on the floor behind him, easily deciphering the concern he was trying to hide.

His uncertain wariness and mannerisms only deepened the anger Klaus felt burning beneath his skin. In his accusatory mind, it was only more condemning evidence of his treachery to both him and his sister.

Rebekah rarely expressed any doubts concerning her relationship with Stefan to him, but over the last few weeks their rows had become more frequent, and although Klaus never considered himself a source of comfort, much less a confidant, it was the role he recently found himself occupying in her life.

Enduring his sister's mainly one-sided conversations that sprang from what he considered to be her own self-induced insecurities, while trying to pacify her with soothing words, had not been easy for him.

His cold, apathetic nature being too contrary to the type of consolation she sought after.

Taking action, destroying, and blissfully ignoring the feelings of those around him came much more naturally to him than being a caring, sympathetic older brother.

Regardless of his own discomfort and reluctance, he tried to give her what she needed, never once thinking that her suspicions would prove to be real.

She was right, he bitterly accepted.

Instantly memories of the forced, awkward reassurances he had given Rebekah when he found it unavoidably necessary to prevent a full-blown sentimental outburst on her behalf resurfaced.

He regretted the many times he had defended Stefan to her, only half-heartedly listening to her, instead quickly dismissing what she would say, telling her that her suspicions and concerns were unfounded, that there was no way Stefan could be involved with someone else.

How could I have been wrong?

At the time, he had no reason to question Stefan's fealty, but from where he was currently standing, it seemed that his sister's concerns rang true.

The degree of betrayal he had felt after Stefan had confessed ownership over the girl had been surprising. Then again, he was the only vampire he considered a friend, a rarely used title on his part that Stefan had earned.

It was a friendship that was not born out of consanguineal obligations as was with his family, nor was it built upon the comradery of their shared profession as enforcers.

No, their mutual acceptance of each other had occurred long before Stefan finally conceded to wearing an emblematic garnet ring at his own behest, accepting the responsibilities that came along with it.

There was a time when Stefan's moral compass was as equally skewed as his own, and even though his crusade as one of the most bloodthirsty rippers came to an eventual halt, their friendship never wavered.

Hell, it didn't even waver after he became involved with his sister. All of Rebekah's previous suitors always met a similar fate, they either lost their heads or their hearts over her, and he made sure the sentiment was not only metaphorical, but also literal.

He had ripped out many hearts and removed many heads in his sister's name. Stefan was the only anomaly, the only vampire Klaus approved of and considered worthy of his sister's attentions.

Now he was regretting ever having kept such a high opinion of the green-eyed enforcer. It wasn't only the suggested infidelity to his sister that the existence of his secret pet hinted at, it was the hypocrisy of it that incensed him the most.

Stefan's newfound morality, his alleged newfound morality, was one of the reasons why Klaus didn't make too much of an effort to spend as much time with him as he used to.

When they first became fast friends, his ferocity and bloodlust was enough to even spark some rivalry and admiration from both him and Kol, the three of them constantly adding to the depravity of their crimes to outdo each other.

Unfortunately, those years of competition were long gone, and nostalgically reminiscing on the atrocities they had committed against so many of their victims wasn't as fun now that Stefan had the ability to feel something other than sadistic glee.

Even the explicit retellings of his most recent tortures and experimentations no longer had the same lasting effect on his retired accomplice.

Sure, sometimes there was a laugh, or a compliment, a small part of Stefan's dark, repressed nature surfacing for a fleeting moment, but it just wasn't same.

Not that he complained, Stefan's altered personality came with advantages.

Whenever he found himself in a situation in which his severely limited capabilities and lack of empathy were more of a hindrance than an advantage, Stefan was the first person to whom he would reach out to.

It always amused him more than it annoyed him to have Stefan try to instill a bit of mercy into his character, whilst simultaneously advising him on how to convincingly feign compassion.

A reformed ripper, Stefan seemed to carry an amount of regret over his past actions, actively opposing the law of human pets, at times even going as far as insinuating that humans were not trinkets for entertainment purposes.

He kept his diatribes to a minimum knowing that Klaus wasn't exactly interested in how humans were mistreated.

Were it anyone else speaking to him concerning the debatable value of humans, Klaus would have likely ended them on the spot, but since Stefan decided to repent for all of the bloodshed he had caused during his ripper days by trying to abolish the law, he was willing to put up with his changed outlook on humanity, especially when they ultimately wanted the same thing, despite having different reasoning.

Immersed in his own turbulent thoughts, it took a moment or two before he realized that Stefan was speaking, detailing reasons for having a secret pet.

Any explanation he was trying to formulate fell on deafened ears. Klaus' inherent arrogance that always led him to believe he was right, and his deep-seated sense of superiority coupled with the explosive rage churning inside, reduced Stefan's voice to a faint, muffled echo.

He was trying to stifle the overpowering need to lash out and failing miserably, every second that passed by only adding more fuel to his anger.

Klaus was as alert as any predator in the midst of a hunt, focusing his deadly intent on the enforcer when movement behind him caught his attention, Stefan's eyes widening slightly in his direction.

He could smell the girl approaching him from behind, her scent getting stronger with each step she took.

He figured she was trying to sneak up on him, but her ragged breathing and heavy footsteps gave her away.

It surprised him that he hadn't heard her first.

Heaving an exaggerated sigh, just to show Stefan how exasperated he was with his pet, he rolled his neck from side to side, smirking evilly and redirecting his gaze to his left shoulder where she was coming from, waiting for her.

He could tell the very moment she reached him, heard the bunching muscles of her leg as she lifted it high to gain enough momentum to kick him.

A part him was genuinely curious to know what exactly it was she was hoping to accomplish.

"Caroline, don't!" cautioned Stefan, while the human yelled at him to make a run for it.

Ah, she means to rescue him, he thought with a flash of sardonic amusement.

Klaus blurred out of the way and she would have stumbled forward if he hadn't wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her from falling.

Hauling her body tightly against his front, Klaus used his spare hand to grab her chin, forcefully making her stare at Stefan's face.

"Brave little thing, isn't she?" he taunted, maintaining eye contact with Stefan, his breath fanning her exposed throat.

"Run, Stefan!" she repeated, twisting her body to loosen his hold.

A hiss of pain fell from her lips when her broken wrist made contact with his solid body

"You must really want that neck of yours broken," he whispered into her ear, his voice low and lethal.

. . .

Caroline's breath caught in in her throat when she felt him start to slowly twist her neck, momentarily losing her ability to think clearly, desperation threatening to overwhelm her.

She immediately stopped her struggling, recalling how he had threatened to break her neck earlier, yet he continued twisting.

His breath was hot on her throat, and she was sure he could hear her heart pounding.

If this monster was planning on taking her out without her putting up a fight, he was in for a surprise.

She closed her eyes against the pain, taking a deep, steadying breath, not wanting Stefan's horror-stricken face to be the last image she saw, hopeful that her last attempt at heroism would buy him enough time to flee.

There was no part of her that was suicidal by any means, but when she had had picked herself up from the floor she had seen how the man was advancing toward Stefan, his body language both threatening and aggressive.

Caroline knew right there and then he was going to kill Stefan, and then turn his fury on her.

The horrifying epiphany left her with little choice, she could either watch her friend die and wait in fear for her own oncoming death, or she could distract the monster for long enough to enable him to escape.

She wasn't going to allow Stefan to die, not when he risked his own life to save hers.

He was the one always bailing her out of seemingly impossible situations, she simply couldn't stomach the idea of him dying.

The sane part of her whispered that her effort would be in vain, but the fiery determination welling up inside her steeled her resolve.

If her death was eminent, an inevitability, then she was going to try her hardest not to make it easy on her would-be killer.

Forcing the panic away from her mind, trying not to focus on the brutal grip he had on her, she willed her body to relax to lessen the increasing strain on her neck.

"Go to hell," she finally bit out, and as fast and as hard as she was able to, she pushed her elbow back into his abdomen with all her might.

If she hadn't felt the warmth of his skin, she would have sworn she had hit a solid wall.

Tears sprang to her eyes, her elbow throbbing in pain along with her broken wrist.

The twisting pressure at her neck came to an abrupt stop.

An animalistic growl registered in her ears, but she ignored it, pushing past the fear, her mind racing, looking for a way out.

"I haven't seen that face in a while," announced her captor, his voice vibrating through her.

He sounded strangely jovial, appreciation coating his words.

She wasn't sure if it was her optimistic mind playing tricks on her, he was still hurting her with his bruising strength, but his entire demeanor seemed to have suddenly changed, some of the tension escaping his body, the hand wrapped around her waist no longer digging into her skin.

He didn't sound as if he were in pain from the blow she had dealt him with, there had been no pained grunt or groan to indicate as such.

What could have caused his sudden shift in mood?

That's when she realized the growl hadn't originated from him. She would have definitely felt it if it had, given how closely pressed she was to his body.

Opening her eyes, she was shocked to the core to see Stefan's face.

Gone were the emerald eyes that were normally a shade darker than her own, replaced by an almost fluorescent green, the whites of his eyes having gone entirely red.

It looked as if the scleras of his eyes were bleeding.

There were dark veins underneath his eyes not dissimilar to the ones she had seen on her attacker.

His pleasant features had darkened into something not human, and his teeth had two new additions, two curved, elongated additions that were visibly sharp.

She swallowed hard, and her heart sank, her blood turning to ice.

"My God," she murmured, her voice a little more than a whisper.

Pieces of a puzzle she hadn't even realized existed until now started falling into place. She had been too oxygen-deprived earlier to thoroughly process why Stefan had interrupted her attacker with only slight wariness, his posture and comportment indicating a lack of fear towards the madman, why he hadn't escaped when he had the chance.

Now that her mind wasn't a distracted, chaotic mess, she found herself thinking rationally, replaying the words the two men, no, the two monsters, had exchanged.

She concentrated, striving to remember the words, forcing them to into her mind, unable to shake the feeling of having had missed something vital during her near asphyxiation.

Caroline then remembered how the man Stefan referred to as 'Klaus' had greeted Stefan by his name.

And suddenly, everything going still inside her, it all made sense.

They know each other.

Aghast, she unconsciously pressed her body back into Klaus, too taken aback to realize what she was doing, trying to put distance between her and Stefan.

All of her previous thoughts of valor and determination leaving her, she quickly used her only uninjured hand to defensively cover the exposed flesh of her neck.

She winced when her hand accidentally covered the large, long fingers that were still gripping her jaw.

This time she knew for a fact that it was her attacker that growled, the deep sound vibrating against her back.

Instead of removing her hand like she suspected he wanted her to, she hooked her fingers into his hand, and started pulling almost mindlessly, besieged by too many emotions at finding herself trapped between two supernatural creatures, losing the calm, logical composure she prided herself in retaining even in the most stressful circumstances.

It was too much for her to handle. Her shock, fear, and adrenaline creating the perfect concoction to effectively cloud her judgement in a way that no amount of alcohol could ever replicate.

She felt her body being shifted, heard words being exchanged, she tried to grasp what was being said, but all of her concentration was on breaking away from his hold.

She wasn't screaming, she wasn't even sure she could scream with the amount of pressure on her waist and chin, but she was struggling, moving wildly against the solid wall behind her, ignoring the low, warning growls rumbling from Klaus' chest.

The last thing she was aware of, before her world turned black, was of a pair of bright, crazed yellow eyes slowly losing their madness and changing into a stormy grey-blue color as they roamed over her face.

. . .

Stefan knew that getting Klaus to understand was going to be difficult.

He knew from experience that once he made up his mind, nothing could deter him.

His explanations were doing little to diffuse Klaus' anger because he wasn't paying attention to a word he was saying.

If he wanted to stop him from breaking Caroline's neck, he was going to have to do something drastic.

Stefan could clearly read the excited satisfaction that flickered in Klaus' gleaming eyes as he slowly forced Caroline's unyielding chin to the side.

He was holding Stefan's gaze the entire time, mistakenly believing that his relationship with Caroline wasn't platonic, that he was getting anxious because he was losing his pet, not a friend.

Caroline was not a pet to him, at least not in the traditional sense of the word.

She was his chance at redemption, and he wasn't going to let Klaus ruin that for him.

Klaus was predator, an apex predator, one he knew he shouldn't directly oppose, but everything about his body language and the look of icy contempt plastered on his face told him nothing else would get him to stop.

Stefan wasn't stupid, he knew he stood no real chance against Klaus, yet he also knew that his angry friend respected power.

He was going to have to have to find a way to get Klaus' attention without making him think he was trying to challenge him, while still showing that he wasn't afraid of him.

It was all a gamble now.

He allowed his vampiric features to manifest, directing a savage growl at Klaus, the sound of it very reminiscent of his days as a ripper.

A tremendous sense of relief coursed through him when he saw Klaus stop his onslaught.

Caroline's shocked whisper made a trickle of guilt travel up his spine, but he didn't dare stop to calm her, knowing that, despite his appreciative comment, Klaus was still too enraged and misinformed to let his guard down around.

"She's a descendant," Stefan confessed, not bothering with minor details or a prologue, knowing Klaus' brief attention could revert back to Caroline's abused neck at any moment.

"Not one of yours, your bloodline ended long ago," coolly countered Klaus, still keeping a strong grip on the struggling human.

"You're right," began agreeing Stefan, "but she's a descendant from the survivor of the massacre."

. . .

"The Monterey Massacre?" questioned Klaus, seeking clarification.

As far as he knew, there had only been one known survivor that escaped Stefan's bloodlust, and it had happened many, many years ago.

Stefan gave a grim nod.

To say that Klaus was surprised was an understatement.

He remembered that specific massacre. It was one of many that Stefan had caused during his ripper phase, but it stood apart from the rest because it was the last and only massacre in which Stefan's guilt had led him to try to reassemble his victims, crudely putting the ripped pieces of flesh and gore back together in a mockery of restored life.

There had been a survivor in that massacre, an only survivor, his blood-smeared and terrified face was still engraved in his mind.

Klaus spun the girl in his arms far enough to gaze at her face, closely examining her features with renewed interest. Now that he was looking for it, he saw the resemblance.

Her delicate features and enormous green eyes were a feminized version of the boy that had survived.

Her continued struggling and disregard for this threatening growls was starting to irritate him, it wasn't accomplishing anything aside from further aggravating him, but the violent anger inside him began dissipating nonetheless, his hybrid eyes reverting back to their ghostly shade.

Stefan's eyes narrowed when Klaus quickly knocked her out, for a second thinking he had broken her neck after all, but Stefan knew what broken necks sounded like, and that wasn't the sound of one being broken.

"There, sleeping like a baby," Klaus said with a smirk, evident delight in his tone at the sight of her head lolling to the side, glad to finally have her immobilized.

He contemplated relinquishing her into Stefan's arms, but he still wasn't fully convinced on the type of connection the girl had to him, and throwing her on the floor would probably break more of her brittle bones.

It never ceased to amaze him how utterly fragile and weak humans were.

He settled on allowing her to dangle over his arm, concluding that her weight was too slight and her frame too small to truly inconvenience him.

He then raised his expectant eyes to Stefan, quirking an eyebrow, silently urging Stefan to explain himself.

. . .

Stefan released a sigh, morphing his features back to normal, preparing himself for what he could already feel was going to be a long, tiring conversation.

They talked for about twenty minutes and would have continued to do so, if Kol hadn't interrupted them by knocking on the door.

Stefan went over and unlocked it, allowing Kol to step inside the small, now crowded 'employee only' restroom.

He didn't even blink an eye at Caroline's limp body draped over Klaus' arm, unaware of the fact that she was the very same girl who had rejected him at the bar, instead settling his triumphant gaze on Stefan.

His eyes, usually so dark and flat, warmed instantly with barely suppressed mirth at seeing the enforcer's face.

"I really wouldn't want to be you right now, mate," he cautioned, giving a dramatic shudder of pretend fear.

"Why?" immediately asked Stefan, wary of the vampire's merriment, knowing from experience that Kol being happy was never a good sign.

He didn't reply right away, enjoying adding to the suspense with his silence.

Klaus' nostrils flared slightly, recognizing the unique, floral scent of his sister's perfume lingering on Kol.

"Because Rebekah is here," he crisply stated with finality, putting Stefan out of his misery whilst ending his younger brother's theatrical teasing.


	12. Chapter 12

"Come on, Nik, I was only to having a bit of fun," complained Kol, annoyed by the fact that his teasing had been cut short.

"What does Rebekah want?" quickly demanded Klaus, ignoring his complaint.

"I'm assuming to speak to her victim here about ditching her," replied Kol, his eyes gleaming mischievously.

Stefan let out a strangled expletive, causing both Originals to stare in his direction, suddenly recalling how he was supposed to have had a farewell dinner with Rebekah before she went back home, but due to Tyler's absence he hadn't been able to take his usual, extended break.

He had been so preoccupied by Caroline's weird behavior that he neglected to call her to cancel their plans for the evening.

He was about to ask for further details concerning Rebekah, but the atmosphere in the room changed.

Kol's jolliness faded and an evil, calculative glint settled in his eyes.

"She just wants to speak to Stefan for leaving her hanging at dinner," he restated in a distant tone, no longer paying attention to the enforcers, his concentration fully on Caroline.

Slowly he moved forward, approaching the form dangling on his brother's arm.

Klaus tried to shift his body to hide her, but Kol was not deterred.

His brother's reluctance to share the identity of the human only further piqued his interest.

He had taken a mere three steps in Klaus' direction, but was stopped by Stefan's hand grabbing the back of his shirt.

"Keep Rebekah company for a moment longer," suggested Klaus, still trying to dissuade him to no avail.

"Caroline," breathed Kol, with a fanged, twisted smile tugging his lips.

Stefan's body imperceptibly stilled, not liking the way Kol's demeanor changed. Tension and a frisson of alarm gripped his body when he realized Caroline was now the target of his concentration.

Both Kol and Klaus were sadistic, but Kol lacked the twisted code of honor that Klaus adhered to.

He idly wondered how Caroline managed to cross paths with not one, but two dangerous, ancient predators.

Out of all the Mikaelson siblings she could have caught the eye of, she unluckily managed to catch the eye of the two most unpredictable, violent ones.

As the reality of the situation sank in, Stefan found himself uneasily conscious of how much danger Caroline was in.

If Kol was determined, he could kill her. No one would truly be able to oppose him, including himself, the only one capable of stopping him would be Klaus, but he wasn't sure if Klaus was willing to trouble himself with playing the savior role for a human, much less a pet, regardless of how loosely applicable that term was to Caroline.

It was one thing for Klaus to tolerate his connection to Caroline, but it was another thing for him to actually defend or encourage that bond.

He had vowed not to kill her, but he had said nothing about discouraging others to finish the deed he was now unable to complete.

In fact, if he was honest with himself, Stefan had to admit that his own strength and age would ultimately be inconsequential if Klaus decided to break his promise, but he had never known Klaus to go back on his word.

At least if Kol decided to attack Caroline, he might get the chance to get in enough hits to discourage him, but it was unlikely, unless luck was on his side.

If tonight's events were anything to go by, luck was certainly not on his side.

The more he considered that, the more apprehensive he grew.

"She's a pet," he warned, growing tired of Kol's blatant staring. He was looking at Caroline as if she were a slab of meat.

"Is she?" Kol challenged, looking her body over for any type of jewelry or tattoos indicating as such.

There was nothing visible to indicate she was claimed.

Stefan was about to point to her wrist, when he noticed that she wasn't wearing the bracelet he had gifted her.

He made a quick, inconspicuous search on the floor.

It was nowhere in sight.

He looked up to find Klaus staring intently at her small wrists.

"Now, who would leave a pet unmarked?" continued Kol, oblivious of the tension he was producing in the room.

"Unless she had a tattoo where the sun doesn't-"

A frustrated snarl escaped Stefan, effectively ending Kol's lewd comments.

He didn't have the time nor had energy to deal with him, knowing full well Kol already convinced himself that Caroline was not a pet, and was therefore considered fair game.

"She's mine," he finally admitted on a resigned, weary breath.

As soon as the words lift his lips, he could feel the metaphorical sand-filled hour glass pouring, every second shortening the window of time he had to tell Rebekah the truth.

Kol and Rebekah were close, much closer than Klaus and Rebekah were.

There was no reason why Kol would refrain from telling Rebekah about his little secret.

The only reason he withheld from alerting Rebekah of Caroline was because he didn't trust Rebekah not to fly into a jealous, violent rage.

Not that he could blame her, if the roles were reversed he highly doubted he wouldn't do the same. That's why he was slowly trying to ease Rebekah into it, making sure his friendship with Caroline wouldn't be misconstrued as something else.

. . .

As Stefan's declaration sank in, Kol's fangs receded, and once comprehension struck his shocked gaze alternated between the two enforcers, seeking clarification.

"What?" he finally asked.

"It's complicated," answered Stefan.

"She doesn't know," added Klaus.

"Hold on," answered a perplexed Kol, holding up a hand and locking eyes with Stefan, "You have a pet?"

Stefan had barely finished nodding in confirmation when Kol unexpectedly threw his head back and laughed.

Klaus' jaw hardened, his eyes narrowing at Kol slapping his knee and roaring with laughter.

His laughter grew louder and louder until Stefan roughly grabbed his throat, and leant forward within inches of his amused face, scowling darkly.

"What's so funny?" he demanded, tightening his fingers in additional, silent warning.

Still chuckling even with Stefan's hand digging into his unprotected throat, Kol unflinchingly met his eyes, and hoarsely mimicked, "'I'll never understand the allure of owning a human. It's unethical, and degrading.'"

The reminder, especially in jest, of his stance on human pets darkened Stefan's mood even further. He was already aware of the hypocrisy of his action, he didn't need Kol throwing his own words in his face to remind him of that.

Kol's lips twitched as he tried and failed at suppressing an amused grin.

Stefan issued a soft, threatening growl in response, abruptly releasing him, putting distance between them to try to temper his own rising agitation.

Where had his voice of reason gone? Kol was openly baiting him and he was falling for it.

"Oh, come on, it's funny," insisted a coughing Kol, not bothered in the least by the anger and frustration radiating off of the green-eyed enforcer.

He then shifted his attention to Klaus.

"What doesn't she know?" he asked, suddenly remembering his brother's earlier vague words, his hungry eyes briefly focusing on Caroline before settling on his Klaus' annoyed face.

"Not her. Rebekah. Rebekah doesn't know about Caroline," grimly answered Stefan, running a tired hand over his face.

Rebekah was most likely waiting for him in his office. He knew she hated waiting, and lately they'd been arguing a lot. Leaving her hanging at the restaurant without even so much as an explanatory call was not going to inspire patience and understanding on her part.

He knew he was running out of time, every second he spent here attempting to explain the complicated situation to Kol increased the probability of Rebekah seeking him out on her own and making a scene.

Right now, that was the last thing he needed. His top priority was to get Caroline as far away as he could from the Mikaelson siblings, especially from Kol.

Her safety was paramount.

Although he had always trusted Klaus, Kol was too unrestrained and wild for him to trust.

Ironically, he was going to have to leave Caroline with both of the Originals in order to deal with Rebekah.

He was sure that the more he kept Rebekah waiting, the less receptive she would be to his apology.

Ideally, he would have liked for Kol to leave, but he knew him well enough to know he wouldn't leave, especially with the amount of interest he had shown in Caroline.

He was suddenly grateful for Klaus' presence, if it weren't for him he suspected Caroline would had already been added to Kol's long list of victims.

There was nothing he would have been able to do about it, either, not without having to earnestly fight Kol.

"Rebekah doesn't know?" Kol repeated to Klaus, a menace in his tone, and in his dark expression.

Kol's jovial mood suddenly vanished.

His sister was jealous and possessive, there was no way she would tolerate Stefan having a pet. Earlier he had been too amused to notice how this 'pet' implicated Stefan. Anger bubbled in his chest. He had gotten too carried away in his own merriment, ignoring the reality of the situation.

"No, and it's not what you think," answered Klaus, already predicting what Kol was thinking regarding Stefan's fidelity toward their sister, practically seeing the gears turning over in his head.

After all, he had assumed the same.

"I'll go see to Rebekah. Explain the situation to him, and keep her safe," announced Stefan, making his way to the door after Klaus nodded in confirmation, only to be blocked by Kol's angry body.

"Not so fast," spat Kol, his eyes clashing with Stefan's green ones defiantly.

"Move, or I'll move you myself," warned Stefan, his stance as equally as challenging as Kol's, but his eyes held a deadly glint that Kol's eyes were missing.

Kol merely raised an eyebrow at his murderously angry face, making a sound that suspiciously sounded like a snort.

Stefan flashed his fangs, expelling a breath of air in a slow, venomous hiss.

It was a fierce warning that would have intimidated the strongest and bravest of vampires, even if they were unaware of his infamous ripper reputation, but it had the opposite effect on Kol.

Stefan realized his mistake the instant he saw Kol's eyes brighten with excitement.

He wanted to fight.

Klaus resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his brother. Kol never backed down from a fight, despite the odds against him. The only reason he was fearless against any opponent was because he was an Original, and his power always gave him the upper-hand in any fight, thus resulting in his undefeated status. However, Stefan wasn't a pathetic human or a lesser vampire, he was an enforcer, one who had proven himself in battle many times over.

Whenever he fought Kol, he was always able to outpace and overwhelm him, and Stefan's fighting style was similar to his own.

He, too, relied more on stealth, and skill, while Kol's fighting style was less refined and frenzied.

Kol had power, and Stefan had experience.

While Kol's sheer power may give him an edge over Stefan, there was no doubt in Klaus' mind that Kol would not walk away unscathed like he was used to doing in other fights

In fact, the more he thought about, the more his own curiosity grew.

Who would win?

He was tempted to let them have at it just to satisfy his morbid curiosity, but he realized that the longer it took for Stefan to deal with Rebekah, the longer he'd be forced to play babysitter to the unconscious human.

Readjusting the girl's body on his arm, he made up his mind.

"Let him go," he firmly ordered, his tone leaving no room for discussion or argument.

Kol begrudgingly stepped aside, allowing Stefan to exit.

"Keep her safe, Klaus," reiterated Stefan throwing an ominous look at Kol before he closed and locked the door behind him.

. . .

"You knew about this?" questioned Kol, turning his anger on him.

"I didn't, not until tonight," he replied, unperturbed.

"I'll kill him," vowed Kol, beginning to pace.

"You won't," he answered

"I will," retaliated Kol.

A moment of silence passed, only Kol's heavy, agitated steps filling the room.

"Do you remember the Monterey Massacre?" he asked.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Kol bit out impatiently, confused by the abrupt question.

Klaus didn't bother answer him, merely remaining silent, waiting for a reply.

"I remember," admitted his agitated brother.

"There was a survivor. A boy," he explained, gauging Kol's reaction to see if he did truly remember.

"Yes, yes," impatiently agreed Kol.

"She's his descendant" he revealed, enjoying how his brother's steps abruptly paused.

"Why turn his descendant into a pet?" questioned Kol, not understanding why the girl's ancestry was of any relevant importance.

"He's only keeping her as a pet for protection, to keep her safe," he rebutted.

"Safe?" echoed Kol.

"That's what I said," he affirmed, slightly irritated by Kol's habitual practice of echoing his words.

"He isn't feeding off of her or fucking her, then?" wondered Kol, a perplexed look on his face.

"No," Klaus responded.

Kol would have asked if he truly believed that, but his lycanthropic ability to detect lies rendered that question useless. In addition to that, he erroneously believed his brother wasn't above compelling Stefan to get what he wanted.

"So, she's important to him," he concluded, taking determined steps toward Caroline, his incisors already drawn, prominent veins darkening underneath his hungry eyes that were swirling with red.

A thunderous roar protesting his movements tore from Klaus' throat, his own fangs exploding from his gums, lengthening dangerously along with his claws, before he even realized what he was doing.

He felt the beast inside of him rising, fast and aggressive, at the thought of his brother killing the mortal, especially after he had bothered to explain her presence. Kol was now aware of how much she mattered to Stefan, yet still was persistent in seeking her death, even going as far as making an attempt on her life while she was unconscious only to gratify a petty revenge against Stefan.

Humans were lowly creatures, Klaus would never argue against that, but killing a sentient creature while it was defenseless was beneath him, and the fact that it seemingly wasn't beneath his brother angered him.

Kol's inability to understand what it was that prompted Stefan to ensure the human girl's safety only served to further aggravate him.

It shouldn't have bothered him, given how his own code of honor was hardly intact after long centuries of spilling blood and earning his feared, dark reputation, but it did.

With tremendous willpower he willed his body to calm down, trying get his mind out of the 'kill and destroy' mode it seemed to be stuck on.

Taking a calming breath, he felt his fangs and talons recede, leaving blunt, deceptively 'human' teeth and nails in their place.

If Kol couldn't comprehend the gravity of the situation, then he would have to make him understand using any means that suited him.

"If you touch her or prattle about her to our dear sister, I might be inclined to give your little witch friend a visit," he taunted, a smile in his voice, thankful for his brother's weakness for a particular witch.

She was the perfect leverage he needed.

Despite his smile, it was a warning and Kol recognized it as such.

"Come to think of it, it's been a while since I last saw her-"

"No need for threats, brother," interrupted Kol.

Klaus smiled, knowing that threats were an absolute necessity when dealing with Kol.

. . .

Stefan had barely kissing Rebekah goodbye when she suddenly waved behind him.

He turned to see Kol approaching them.

He mentally braced himself for what Kol was about to say, but to his complete surprise, Kol merely greeted Rebekah and informed her he was leaving with her.

As the duo began walking away, Kol turned with a smirk on his face, and said, "By the way, mate, my brother left a few minutes ago."

Stefan didn't understand the underlying taunt in Kol's sardonic voice, but once he made his way back to the 'employee only' restroom he understood perfectly.

Klaus was, in fact, gone, and so was Caroline.


	13. Chapter 13

"Klaus, open this damned door!" bellowed Stefan, his voice strong and commanding, despite having blurred over from his house at a dizzying speed.

In his haste, he hadn't thought to retrieve the spare key to the dungeon from his room, a choice he was now regretting.

By the time he had reached his home his nerves were close to snapping, the situation made even worse when he realized Klaus had taken the original key from the antique console table that greeted him as soon as he entered his house.

Stefan momentarily scolded himself for giving Klaus so much unrestrained access to his home, he knew how to deactivate his security system and had nearly every password needed to gain entry to most of the locked rooms in his house.

He had chosen to place his key on top of the console table out of convenience, but was now wishing he hadn't left his key in such a visible area.

Inwardly cursing for not having the foresight to know the key was obviously going to be missing, given how Klaus would not have been able to enter the dungeon without it, he had made his way to the backyard, without missing a beat, and began pounding on the door of his 'shed'.

To unaware onlookers, it would seem as if he was simply trying to gain access to the small, wooden storage shed located behind his house, when in reality he was trying to get into the secret dungeon hidden underneath.

The façade of the shed was used to cloak the true horror that was hidden just beneath the surface.

Although the thick, heavy door he was currently abusing was superficially made out of wood, the rest was composed of steel.

It only unlocked when the appropriate digits were entered into the keypad found above the doorknob, but the touchscreen keypad was only activated after the key was inserted.

It was one of the many security modifications he had made to his 'shed' a few years ago.

Earlier, when he realized Klaus had taken Caroline, he had called him to ask for his location and his intention regarding her.

Klaus only provided him with a single word and ended the call, but that word he had uttered had Stefan's stomach churning with trepidation, spurring him into action because he knew, completely and undeniably, without a shred of doubt that Klaus would not think twice before making use of the torture chamber.

The word "dungeon" kept replaying in his mind as he raced at a grueling speed toward the 'shed' in his backyard.

The wooden layer of the door began breaking and splintering, pieces flying all around him as he continued to powerfully knock on the door like a man possessed.

He was debating heading back to the house to get the spare key when he noticed that door was beginning to open.

"Any louder and you'll wake the dead," greeted Klaus, his frame filling the doorway, his face was seemingly devoid of emotion, but Stefan knew him well enough to read the small hints of amusement showing through the impassive mask he usually wore.

Not bothering to reply, Stefan quickly descended down the stairs, while Klaus closed the door shut.

He prowled through the dungeon, trying to locate his abducted friend, frantically calling out her name.

His gaze automatically went to the torture chamber, her name dying on his lips.

Mentally bracing himself for the horror he suspected he would find in there, he stepped in the room, and was relieved to see that none of torture devices had been used. There were rancid smells of blood and decay that assaulted his nose, but they weren't recent.

"You won't find her in there," announced Klaus, a mocking edge in his tone.

Knowing there were too many cells, Stefan whipped around and confronted him.

"Where is she?" he demanded, coolly meeting his amused stare.

Klaus nodded toward the corridor of cells.

"Which one?" he snapped, irritation finally coloring his voice.

"My favorite one," replied Klaus with a faint ghost of a smile that completely failed to add warmth to his unblinking eyes.

Instantly realizing which cell he was referring to, he now understood why Klaus had been amused by his greeting comment about him potentially waking the dead if he were any louder.

A flash of renewed panic speared through him as he blurred over to the cell in question, his searching gaze finally landing on the crumpled form on the floor.

Relief flooded through him when he realized she was still breathing, mercifully unconscious, and seemingly oblivious of her surroundings.

If she was awake, she would be terrified and disgusted.

Klaus had clearly chosen to put her in that specific cell for his own sick amusement.

It was the last one in the dungeon, unique among the rest because it was untouched by modern technology.

The only reason Stefan had decided against updating its ancient and rustic design was because he used it as a storage unit as opposed to a functioning cell.

He had hardly made any use of it prior to transforming it into his own personal storage unit, mainly because it was too far away from the torture chamber to be practical.

Up until two weeks ago he had kept his most treasured belongings in old, wooden boxes inside of it.

Unfortunately, some of the wooden boxes had begun to severely erode due to neglect, which had forced him to unveil his personal belongings that had been hidden away for many decades.

He had only meant to transfer his belongings from the wooden boxes to sturdier, plastic ones, but somewhere during that transitional phase, he found himself simply remounting his trophies, whilst foregoing any future intentions of storing them away again.

The cell contained all of his trophies crowdedly mounted on the walls, similar to the way hunters sometimes mounted the animals they hunted, but unlike human hunters, Stefan's trophy walls consisted of human memorabilia.

His trophies ranged from preserved heads to various items crudely bound in leathered human skin.

As his eyes left Caroline's form to possessively drift over his trophies, his mind clouded, a shiver of pleasure traveling up his spine.

It didn't matter how many times he looked at his collection, he always reacted to its brilliance.

Transfixed, he remained motionless, his mind traveling back in time.

Flashing memories of feeding, of feeling power rushing through him as sweet, warm blood overwhelmed his senses slammed into him, making his jaw clench.

An insidious, familiar voice whispered to him then, asking him if he missed the power he once had, promising him the full regainment of it if he gave into his dark urges.

He knew he was nowhere near close to a relapse, but even with his new outlook on humans he couldn't deny that a lingering part of him did occasionally miss his old, addicted lifestyle.

It was made even more obvious by his inability to get rid of the physical reminders of his past.

He liked to believe he kept them to remind him of his days as a ripper and to strengthen his resolve in never allowing bloodlust to rule over him, but that was only partly true.

Deep down, he was still proud of his trophies.

After all, they had been magnificent kills.

Forcefully tearing his gaze from his macabre collection, he redirected his concentration to Caroline, using her as a focal point to block the haze of temptation in his mind.

With a clear, no longer distracted mind he was immensely grateful to note that Klaus had not caused her further harm.

Her wrist was clearly broken, but her breathing was steady.

Ignoring Klaus' snarl of displeasure, he went into the cell, and carefully picked up her small form, mindful of her injury.

. . .

Klaus studied Stefan's face, interested by the amount of concentration he saw in his gaze as he continued to stare at his trophies, frozen to the spot.

He could tell from his harsh, nearly unhinged expression that he was reminiscing.

As he watched, he could've sworn he saw a predatory glimmer beginning to surface in the depths of his unfocused, green eyes, but it vanished as soon as his gaze fastened on the mortal yet again.

The severity of his face quickly melted, his eyes filling with concern as they fixed on her still broken wrist.

Now, he just looked soft.

Pitifully soft… and weak.

Something like melancholic disappointment cut through him at the thought.

There was a part of him that was pleased to find out his former accomplice had not destroyed every facet of his previous lifestyle.

It gave him a small flicker of hope that he would one day renounce his advocacy for human rights in the supernatural world, and embrace his true nature.

However, his hope dashed as his gaze, too, settled on the mortal's form.

He had initially been accepting of Stefan's connection to the human, mostly because he assumed Stefan merely felt indebted to her from having slaughtered most of her descendants.

He had expected Stefan to care for her general safety, but the way he had frantically rushed to her rescue, desperately calling out her name as he practically ran around the dungeon without any forethought made him realize how much he had underestimated the bond Stefan had with her.

Most disturbingly of all, he had seen this type of reckless, emotion-led behavior from Stefan before. Granted, not to this extent, but it was still much too similar for his liking.

The type of bond Stefan once had with the survivor of the Monterey Massacre was similar, but far less extreme. It was a strange bond he had tolerated simply to appease Stefan's remorse, but it had more lasting consequences than he ever thought possible.

A frisson of anger and revulsion coursed through his veins. Now that he saw the resemblance she held to her ancestor, it was the only thing he could see whenever he looked at her and it sickened him.

All of the resentment and pent-up hostile emotions he held for the dead survivor were being transferred over and directed at his living relative.

That small boy had been the catalyst that led to Stefan's downfall, his views on humans had been forever altered because of him.

He didn't even want to think what would become of Stefan if he continued his association with the girl, and there was no way in hell he was going to let her live long enough for him to find out.

It was not lost on him that Stefan's acquirement of the mortal coincided with a sharp increase of arguments between him and his sister, and a more noticeable opposition to the mistreatment of humans.

He suspected she was the reason why Stefan had become an even bigger apologist than he already was, and that thought caused something lethal and dark to burn in his gut.

She's making him soft.

His lips drew back in a snarl, a growl of displeasure erupting from deep within his chest at the realization.

His eyes burned through her with venomous hatred as Stefan gently picked her up, and kept her close to his chest.

A sort of disgusted shock marred his features at the sight.

Soft and weak, repeated a voice in his head.

The need to kill her rose with every accusatory thought he had about her involvement in Stefan's recent metamorphosis as a more committed human sympathizer.

The more his mind raced, the more reasons he found her death to be a necessity.

Her demise would surely put an end to his disturbing compassion for humans.

The arguments based on Rebekah's suspicion of him being unfaithful would cease as well, which would spare him from having to play the exhaustive role of an elder, caring brother consoling his distraught sister.

His reputation would not be questioned, and the rumors of his declining strength would cease because he had a strong feeling that his new, animal-only diet was directly linked to his involvement with the girl.

Really, with him killing the girl he half-expected Stefan to be grateful for his intervention.

He would be doing him a great favor, even if he didn't initially view it as such.

Despite his own logical reasoning, he knew Stefan well enough to expect his anger for causing her death, but he was willing to put up with the aftermath.

So what if he refused to speak to him for a few decades out of spite? It was a small price to pay.

Soft and weak creatures were not known for their longevity, he'd be damned before he allowed Stefan's guilt and misplaced regret to cost him his life.

A small part of him regretted having discouraged his brother from ending her life earlier, but if there was one thing he knew he could always rely on his brother for, it was his tenacity.

One way or another, she was going to die.

He promised he wouldn't kill her, but his promise had many loopholes.

A small, cruel smile lifted his lips.

As an extra precautionary measure he was going to kill any immediate family members she had, he was going to put an end to Stefan's fascination with her bloodline by ending it.

. . .

"The girl won't leave the dungeon until I find out whether or not she can be trusted," announced Klaus, enjoying the way Stefan stiffened as he blocked his path, effectively trapping him in the cell with his body.

"Trusted with what, exactly?" questioned Stefan, tightening his hold on Caroline, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"With keeping quiet about our existence," he explained, "but since you've been supplying her with vervain, there are only two choices.

Stefan's defensive stance faltered, a confused expression crossed his features as he shook his head bewilderedly.

He must have misheard what Klaus had said because there was no way he knew about the vervain.

Unless…

"You fed on her?" he tersely bit out, nearly speechless with shock as he stared at Klaus for a long moment.

Unexpectedly, a blaze of fury slammed into him along with a kind of helpless indignation.

Klaus remained silent, his eyes glinting like ice, until he looked away and gave him a curt, confirmative nod.

Stefan was going to demand an explanation, but he caught the passing hatred and disgust that smoldered in his eyes as they burned over Caroline's small form before resettling on him.

He choked down the angry words swirling in his head, his momentary bemusement and fury morphing into concern.

There had been something eerie about his brief, hate-filled gaze that gave him pause.

For as long as he had known him, Klaus never fed on humans. He didn't actively hunt them like his younger brother, Kol, did, but he didn't hide his disdain for them, either.

However, the anger he had seen in his eyes when he looked over at Caroline unnerved him. There was something about the strange look he had given her that perturbed him. It was too personal, too intense.

What could she have done to inspire that much wrath? And how had he missed it back at the club? Had he been so concerned with Rebekah that he failed to notice how much real danger Caroline had been in when he left her with him?

His green eyes searched his pale ones as they stared at one another, watching his expression carefully to see if the burning hostility would resurface, but it never did.

Klaus merely stared back with cool indifference.

It seemed that his dangerous anger was solely reserved for his unconscious friend for reasons unknown to him.

Caroline, what have you gotten yourself into?

. . .

"What are my 'two choices'?" Stefan finally asked him, breaking the silence that had ensued.

"I never said they were yours to make," he responded with deceptive calm.

"She's my pet," argued Stefan.

"A pet you don't feed off of or use? That doesn't sound like much of a pet to me," he countered.

"Is it set in stone somewhere that a human has to be used in that manner to be a damn pet?" heatedly replied Stefan.

"Unwritten rules, perhaps," he said.

"Then if I am not in violation of any rules, she's still my pet," argued Stefan.

Klaus looked pensive for a moment, overtly so, and then he smiled.

"Stefan, Stefan," he scolded shaking his head slowly and deliberately.

"Your pet has no identifying jewelry or tattoos indicating your ownership. You've been supplying her with vervain somehow, and I doubt you've registered her," he stated, keeping count of Stefan's rule violations with his fingers.

"That's three violations that I know of," he added, holding his hand up to show the other enforcer.

"She is registered," Stefan objected firmly, feeling an overpowering need to discredit the veracity of Klaus' assumed violations.

"Is that so?" he queried, his aristocratic mask of indifference firmly in place. Only his eyes betrayed his curiosity.

"Under your name?" he pressed, his curiosity quickly surmounting as Stefan failed to provide him with an immediate answer.

Stefan hesitated, and then admitted, "No, not under my name, but that doesn't change the fact that she's registered."

"It does, however, negate any claim of ownership you thought you had," he pointed out.

"Her registrant and I have an understanding," quickly defended Stefan, growing increasingly uncomfortable, and wishing he had kept quiet regarding Caroline's registered status.

He tried to think of a change of subject, anything to hopefully lead the conversation to safer ground, but Klaus was unyielding.

"You can't even call for my head for having fed on your precious pet," he acknowledged, his eyes alight with mockery.

Stefan appeared briefly affronted before sharply replying, "Of course not, Mikaelsons are above the law, aren't they?"

They both knew it was true, but Klaus did not like relying on his family name to earn him respect. Stefan knew it, and immediately regretted rising to the bait.

He'd been doing that a lot lately, acting without thinking.

Predictably, Klaus ignored the jab, and simply watched him with an unnervingly steady, cold gaze before rewarding his obvious discomfort with a nonchalant shrug, not bothering to confirm the obvious nor learn the identity of the mysterious registrant

Stefan had unintentionally provided him with more evidence to support his argument in how to proceed in dealing with the girl. Any further information about her life as a pet was unnecessary to him.

"What are you going to do?" wearily asked Stefan, needing to break the sudden tension.

"I intend to give her as much incentive as possible to ensure her silence. If I feel she is untrustworthy, I'll proceed accordingly," explained Klaus studying the crumpled form in his arms with a dark, disconcerting look.

Stefan once again found himself concerned for Caroline's safety and well-being.

It was the same, disturbing look he had given her a few minutes ago.

"You vowed you wouldn't kill her," he reminded him, annoyed by the ambiguity of his explanation.

"I won't," relented Klaus, a wicked gleam surfacing in the depths of his pale, merciless eyes.

"You won't," concluded Stefan and then there was a short pause on his part as Klaus' words finally sunk in, followed by a curse, "but someone else will."

He released a hollow laugh, his mind awhirl with countless thoughts and feelings, mainly amazement and blood-boiling anger at his own foolishness.

Really, what else could have he expected from Klaus? He abided by his own code of honor that much was true, regardless of how warped it was, and he went to extreme lengths to refrain from dishonoring the credence of his given word. However, he was ultimately infamously known for being manipulative and strategic. If he wasn't completely convinced that Caroline could keep the existence of vampires a secret, he wouldn't hesitate to command someone else, whether it was a compelled vampire or human made no difference, to kill her.

He would orchestrate her death, without a shred of regret, but possibly some mild annoyance at having to go out of his way to guarantee her death without compromising his so called 'honor'.

Sure, he appreciated his predicament or at least appeared to, and even seemed to understand, but Stefan knew better than anyone how limited Klaus' comprehension of emotionality was, how he was sorely lacking in both empathy and remorse, how incredibly skewed his moral compass was.

Truly, if he was honest with himself, he wondered if his friend's moral compass was ever intact to begin with.

Thinking back to their earlier conversation at the club, he vividly recalled how careful Klaus had been in choosing his words to placate him when he feared he would attack Caroline.

The thought of something like this happening had briefly struck him then, but he had miscalculated Klaus' ruthlessness.

While he had accurately presumed Klaus wasn't going to dissuade any future attacks on Caroline or guarantee her safety, he hadn't thought of the possibility of him commanding others to kill her.

"Let me talk to her first," he quickly protested, "I can make sure she keeps quiet."

. . .

Klaus pondered Stefan's request. While his suggestion didn't sound anywhere near as fun as what he had planned, he ultimately decided that he would allow Stefan to make an attempt. He would most likely fail given how futile is was to try and reason with mortals. In the end, he was going to ensure her death, one way or another.

Besides, how funny would it be to see him try to explain their world when she was in his trophy cell?

Her terror would amuse him.

He looked forward to seeing her wide-eyed, and pale with fear.

"I'd like to talk to her inside the manor," added Stefan.

Klaus' mood instantly darkened.

He didn't outwardly display his disappointment, instead giving him a slight nod, which he almost regretted giving when a blissful look of satisfaction flittered in Stefan's eyes as he acquiesced to his request.

"Fine, but I get to watch," he firmly stated, enjoying watching the hopeful gleam in his eyes dim.

Stefan stopped dead, trying not to react negatively to Klaus' stipulation

"I don't need your help," he protested.

"I'm not offering you any help," corrected Klaus, giving him a long, assessing look before dismissing him.

Stepping aside to give him room, he pulled out his cellphone, debating on whether to call Kol or to simply rely on his brother's tenacity to eventually kill the girl for rejecting him.

He knew his brother was going to kill her sooner or later, but he didn't want to wait.

He wanted her to be dead as soon as possible, to sever the link that tied her to Stefan.

As always, he had more missed calls than he cared to return and unread text messages he was too irritated to deal with.

He didn't even have to glance Stefan's way to know he was struggling to formulate an answer.

For now, he was going to play along with his game, or at least pretend to.

"I'll meet you there then," finally responded Stefan, squaring his shoulders as he sped past him with supernatural speed.

Intending to follow Stefan's lead, Klaus stilled when he saw that most of the unanswered calls and text messages were from his mother.


End file.
